


Ships that pass in the night

by AgingPhangirl (Madophelia)



Series: Ships verse [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Strangers to Friends, Youtuber AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-11-17 02:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 60,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madophelia/pseuds/AgingPhangirl
Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers. The catch? They’ve never met, and Phil doesn’t want them to.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> June 21 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> I just wanted a slow burn strangers to friends and friends to lovers but I wanted them still to be YouTubers so… this happened.
> 
> I’m probably going to alternate chapters of this with some one-shots,for the rest of fedij. or with another chaptered fic I have. Depending on how I feel and if you guys have any strong feelings about it one way or another. Let me know :D
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

There are so many YouTubers. It wasn’t always like this, back in the day Phil could go to a YouTube meetup and know pretty much everyone in attendance. Nowadays, while he recognises most people (because he does _watch_ a lot of YouTube) he doesn’t know them all. And there isn’t even time in the schedule for him to introduce himself. 

The day is busy and crowded and he’s met a lot of fans, hugged loads of them, posed for way too many photos. He’s barely had time to say hello to the people he does know, let alone introduce himself to anyone he doesn’t. He’s exhausted and irritable and he just wants to be in his own home and blanketed in some silence for a bit, to recharge and not have to think about the right thing to say all the time.

He’s on the train home from the thing before he gets a chance to check his Twitter. There are so many pictures of the day, most of them are posed, but some he’s just in the background. One in particular catches his eye. 

It’s Dan Howell. Another British, tall, awkward, emo, nerdy YouTuber. If he didn’t know better he’d assume Dan was trying to step on his branding. But then, his style was more cynical and sarcastic, Phil likes to make his channel a happy place. Still, the comparisons get drawn all the time so it’s hardly a surprise that they have a bunch of similar fans. 

Phil is in the background of one of Dan’s photos. Of course, this gives his followers ample chance to drag out the old joke. 

**@U2beTrash01:** So close yet so far! @danisnotonfire and @AmazingPhil did you actually manage to talk this time?

It’s sort of become a running thing. They’re always in the same place, they have lots of mutual friends but for some reason, they’ve never actually met. He thinks that, perhaps, if they ever actually do collab, they’d break the internet. Or, you know, at least their tiny corner of it.

He’s watched almost all of Dan’s videos, he thinks he’s really funny and vibrant and outgoing in a way that Phil will never be. Perhaps it’s Phil that’s trying to steal Dan’s branding, not that he’d ever be able to.

He scrolls slightly and sees another notification. Dan has taken to responding to these things recently. 

**@danisnotonfire:** the fates are still against us im afraid maybe next time @AmazingPhil?

Phil doesn’t know if he wants to indulge this, honestly. By all accounts Dan is a nice person, funny, cool, attractive, but going along with it all feels like lying, like they’re just stringing the fans along for views. This sort of thing, making fans take note of particular friendships in this pointed way, letting them get invested, it never works out. 

He thumbs away from Twitter so he doesn’t have to think about it. 

-

He’s with PJ when he nexts hears about it. 

“Of course, Dan is going to be there.” 

“Who?”

“Dan? You know, Dan Howell?”

“You know Dan Howell?” 

PJ laughs, “No. But I know Louise, because she’s lovely to everyone. Louise knows Dan. He’s kind of… Well, he comes across all cool and everything but he’s kind of standoffish isn’t he? Every time I’ve spoken to him anyway. Nice to the fans though, I’ll give him that.” 

Standoffish? Phil has never really gotten that vibe from him but then, he has had literally zero interaction with him so he’s not exactly an authority on the topic. It still makes his stomach twist slightly when he remembers the hype surrounding it all, that mixed up mess.

“I’ve never spoken to him,” Phil shrugs. 

“Really?” PJ smiles again, his mouth lopsided, “I felt for sure that schtick was just a running joke, you guys have really never met?” 

“No. Never.” Phil sighs, that type of running joke isn’t something he’d actively try to get involved with, PJ should know that.

“Well, he’s coming to the party on Saturday. Maybe you’ll meet then?” 

“Perhaps.” Phil muses. 

“You’re going to have to let this go eventually,” PJ says, not really meeting Phil’s eye, because it’s not something they talk about regularly. 

“Leave it peej.”

“Just… you’re getting a bit of a reputation as being standoffish yourself mate. I know you don’t want to… get involved. And refusing collabs and stuff is… whatever. But just for yourself, if not for your channel, you need to start interacting with the world a bit.” 

“I do,” Phil insists, “I have friends on YouTube, I see them all the time.” 

“You know what I mean Phil,” PJ sighs, “You’ve got to let that wall down at some point. I’m not saying it has to be bloody Dan Howell of all people but, you know. Someone, at some point. Not everyone is going to be like--” 

“Yes, thank you. I’ll think about it.” Phil rushes to cut him off, because he’s had just about enough of that thank you very much.

“You’ll think about it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good. Maybe you can talk to Dan at the party then. Who knows, you might make a friend.” 

Phil attempts a tight smile but he knows it looks forced. He could talk to Dan Howell, toys with the idea briefly before shrugging it away. He doesn’t understand why, at that moment, it feels like an anticlimax.

-

Phil gets to the party too early and spends the first hour adrift in PJ’s empty living room. He’s clutching a bottle of beer that has turned lukewarm in his hand and there a sheen of sweat collecting on his lower back. He can’t pinpoint why, but he’s feeling unexplainably anxious about the whole thing.

By the time people begin to arrive Phil has worked himself into a full blown mess. He doesn’t really want to be here any more and he’s feeling that familiar discomfort that comes when he’s socialised too much. He hasn’t even spoken to anyone yet so it’s started a lot earlier than usual. 

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” Louise says, cornering him in the gap he’d found near the bookshelf. 

Having the persona is easier at least, as it takes minimal effort for him to slip into it. He sets his shoulders into a posture reminiscent of someone having a good time and tries to imitate what he wishes he felt like. 

“I’m fine,” he smiles, easy, light, completely the opposite to how he is actually feeling. 

“It’s getting quite crowded,” Louise says, knowingly. 

“Yes.” 

“PJ knows a lot of people, huh?” 

“Yes.” He doesn’t offer anything else, there isn’t anything to offer. 

“He made it an open invitation which is always a bit of a mistake isn’t it? I mean you end up with people inviting their friends and then those people inviting friends and then you end up with a weird mix of people. Great way to meet other YouTubers though, right?” Louise is smiling and genuinely pleased about the large group of potential new friends in the room and Phil wants to be, he really does, but it doesn’t come as easily to him. 

“There didn’t used to be that many to meet,” he observes. 

“You old dinosaur,” Louise laughs, “it’s changed loads since you started.” 

“It has.” 

Louise begins elucidating on the topic of just how much YouTube has changed and in what ways when Phil spots him. Leaning against the fireplace, wearing all black, holding what appears to be a gin and tonic and looking just, relaxed and cool. He tries to shrink himself back against the bookcase a little, the hard corner of it digging into his shoulder blade. 

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Phil reassures her. 

She follows his gaze over to Dan who is talking to some young blue-haired girl Phil vaguely recognises as a beauty guru currently branching out into vlogging. His hair is fanned out over his forehead and he runs a hand through it occasionally, messing it up before smoothing it back down into its original configuration, using two fingers at his temple to push it back up. Phil’s seen him do it before, in his videos, and he knows, because of the same videos, that it’s because his hair isn’t naturally straight and he doesn't really like it much and… that's just way too much information for him to know about someone he has never had a conversation with. 

“Oh my gosh, we need to break Twitter.” Louise is saying, tugging on his arm and trying to move him in Dan’s direction. “Get a picture of the two of you finally being introduced? It will be great!” 

“Oh, Lou actually I’m--” he stops, planting his feet and waving his hands to punctuate his sentences. “I lied. I’m not feeling well actually so I... I’m just going to… go. Home. Tell PJ thank you for inviting me.” 

Without looking back he sets his sweaty bottle of beer on a side table and leaves the room. 

-

He can't sleep. He doesn’t know what it is about his stupid near-encounter that has him up. It’s a ridiculous way to be acting, but it gnaws away at him until he picks up his phone. Navigating to Twitter he doesn’t even turn on his bedside lamp, just lets the harsh white of the screen blink out at him. He considers switching to the darker layout but honestly, the glow is kind of helping him focus, the slight ache in his eyes better than the one in the pit of his stomach. 

He’s glad he turned notifications off because once again there is a flurry of activity in his mentions. It doesn’t take him long to find the original cause of it.

 **danisnotonfire:** youtuber parties are crazier than your parties… fact

There is a picture attached with some of the bigger names in the UK scene, all of them slightly glassy-eyed and squashed into frame. They’re sporting crazy accessories, hats and mustaches that Phil recognises as being part of PJs extensive prop collection. 

He feels a pang of something longing at the thought that he could have been there if not for his own trivial issues, but he pushes it down and keeps scrolling to find out why any of this means he’s involved. Of course, he should really have made the link. 

**missrachelgurl:** @danisnotonfire Please tell me @AmazingPhil is at this party and that you’ve finally met?!?!?

 **danisnotonfire:** i have the worst luck i asked but apparently i just missed him because i got here late as usual

Dan asked. Probably just as a response to that tweet, to figure out if he could, in fact, get a picture with Phil to appease Twitter but still, Dan is out there asking about him. Something about that makes him feel queasy.

Phil’s finger hovers over the reply button, but stalls when he wonders what on earth he would even say to that. Sorry? For all he knows Dan is humouring the fans and Phil isn’t sure he wants to encourage it. He knows how it ends, and he isn’t sure he could survive it a second time. 

He’s about to take his own sage advice and stop this fall into the twittersphere when he spots the next interaction. Dan hasn’t even included him in the reply to this one, but he sees it anyway.

 **lovelykate88:** @danisnotonfire Is it true that you were a massive fanboy for @AmazingPhil? That why you’re so disappointed?

 **danisnotonfire:** so much stalking when i was a teenager maybe that’s why he’s avoiding me.

The restless feeling in Phil’s stomach is really swirling now, because that just can’t be true. He isn’t proud, but he finds himself reaching for his laptop, navigating to the advanced search on Twitter, just to prove it to himself. To stop the crazy flurry of whatever this is in his head.

It doesn’t take him long to filter by every time Dan has mentioned his username directly on Twitter, then to stack it by date in reverse order. He has to blink a few times before he can understand what he’s seeing. 

Hundred of tweets dating back to 2007, every video he posted, every tweet he made, Dan has replied. They slow down around 2009 when he knows Dan’s own channel was created, and when Phil had been through his rough patch, but it’s all there, Dan hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he’d ‘stalked’ Phil. He wouldn’t go as far as to actually call it that, because stalking is a whole other thing, and Dan has certainly never showed up on his doorstep or anything, but he’d certainly been enthusiastic about getting a response. 

Maybe YouTube hasn’t changed that much, because Phil had thought that it was easier back then, before the massive audiences made it impossible to be noticed. He watches fans get really happy after he replies to them, even when it’s something stupid, and he’d thought it was just because nowadays there are thousands of replies to his tweets, rather than the few hundred he was getting back then. But it can’t have been simply that, because how had he missed this? Hadn’t caught sight of the same username repeating over and over but then… he supposes he was quite preoccupied with other things at the time.

He still isn’t sure he wants to encourage any interaction, because he doesn’t want this to become a _thing_ with the fans, he could really do without all of that to be honest. On the one hand is that, his clear reluctance to get involved in whatever stirring Dan is trying to create to garner attention, playing that YouTube name-drop game that Phil has desperately tried to avoid over the last few years, but on the other, doesn’t he kind of owe Dan a mention after all these years? 

It makes him smile to think about, even if it’s far from the truth. Dan has more followers than him now, even if he was tweeting at Phil back in the day, it’s so much different now. He clicks reply on the ‘stalking’ tweet and pauses for a moment before deciding what to write.

 **AmazingPhil:** even though you’ve been stalking me since ‘07 I’m not avoiding you on purpose! I wasn’t feeling well and had to go home ^-^

He’s posted it before he realises that mentioning the specific date gives him away on the whole advanced search thing. Phil closes his laptop, throwing his room into deep darkness. He slides it to the floor besides his bed, propping it up against his bedside table. He can’t look at it any more tonight. Even if he deletes the tweet it’s out there, nothing ever truly gets deleted on the internet, he knows that more than anyone else. There are still tweets of his that he deleted ages ago floating around online, dragged out at regular intervals when everyone wants to re-hash some old YouTube drama. But he’s put all of that behind him, has tried to distance himself as much as possible from the ins and outs of YouTube politics because he knows how bad it can get. He just hopes that this isn’t the start of something else, and he’s pretty sure he needs to put an end to it before it grows arms and legs. 

Maybe if he simply interacts with Dan on a superficial level it will be enough. Dan will gain whatever it is he wants from an association with Phil, and Phil can keep him at an arm's length the way he does with everyone. It’s the way it has to be, because it’s too dangerous to think about anything else.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 22 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> I was going to alternate between this and something else but @Adorkablephil said I need to work on this and nothing else. And I’m a sucker for requests from my lovely mutuals so… here you go lovely, have a little bit more. 
> 
> Also I’ve been absolutely blown away by the response to this fic. It is the most popular of fedij so far and I’m so so so thankful for all the lovely things people have been saying. So, thank you!
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

Phil is sometimes glad of his complete inability to function at optimum levels before coffee. This morning it means that he doesn’t remember that he tweeted Dan Howell until he’s stood in his tiny kitchen cradling a hot mug to his chest and rubbing his eyes, glasses shoved up on his forehead. 

When he does remember he keeps the hand over his face to block it out temporarily, not that doing that ever helps, but he can’t stop himself from trying. 

Hot coffee in one hand, lapping dangerously over the rim of the mug and landing on his socked feet, he dives back into his bedroom and for the phone plugged in next to his bed. The Twitter app is still open when he unlocks it so it doesn’t take him long to scan the awaiting notifications. His heart hammers in his chest when he sees the thing he’s dreading most, a reply from Dan Howell.

**danisnotonfire:** OMG senpai noticed me?!?!

It's an ironic reaction, playing up to the whole ‘Dan and Phil don’t interact’ thing. It’s kind of funny actually and Phil smiles despite himself, knowing he’d never have been able to come up with something like that. At least it doesn't really warrant a response if he doesn’t want to give one, and he doesn’t. They can be the type of people that tweet occasionally but he doesn't have to get embroiled in some sort of actual friendship or acquaintance with him, one that gets commented on all the time. It's better that way, and resolving to keep it at a distance settles the fizzy itch he’s starting to feel under his skin. It’s good to think that it doesn't have to be as complicated as he’d feared. He really hates disappointing people. 

Except that it might, because he notices that in addition to the reply, and the resulting mass of fan tweets, there is also a direct message waiting for him in his inbox. 

**danisnotonfire:** did you really look up when i first tweeted you? or was that a guess? im not actually a crazy stalker i was just a very bored teen who watched too much youtube i really love your channel though i think you’re really talented

And then later

**danisnotonfire:** can we pretend i said something cool as our first interaction instead where i don’t come across as the lamest human to exist? this is why i shouldn’t drink and tweet

Phil swallows around a laugh, forcing it down until it lodges in his throat. He doesn’t want to find this funny or endearing in any way whatsoever but its crashing over him. He has to remind himself that this is all a game, a hollow interaction to perpetuate a perceived situation. It’s for the fans, not for him. The DM is just to get Phil on-side, complicit in whatever play he’s making. 

Phil doesn’t want to play this game, it makes him nervous and his palms are clammy around his phone. He doesn't need any more fabricated friendships, he doesn't want to act like this, he finds social encounters difficult enough without having the added navigation of never knowing what’s real. It feels much easier to close the app and call PJ to meet him for coffee, because he has friends already, real ones, he doesn’t need any more.

\--

PJ doesn’t let him off the hook that easily though, he’s barely 10 minutes into coffee, the cup not yet cooled enough to drink from, before he brings it up.

"Do I remember Dan saying you’d actually replied to a tweet last night?" 

Phil blows once more across the rim of his mug, watching the steam curl in the air disrupted by his breath. He nods against the heated china, forehead dipping into the humidity so that steam condenses on his forehead. 

"I’m proud of you." 

"Don’t," Phil warns, "It’s not some grand gesture." 

"It doesn't need to be," PJ shrugs, so organic and natural in all his movements, like all of this is simple to him. It isn’t for Phil. 

"I’m still not getting into all of that. I just figured I didn’t want to appear like I was being… difficult." 

"So it’s for appearances?" 

"Isn’t it always?" Phil points out. "Not that I’m joining in with it you realise. I genuinely didn’t want to be a dick. But that’s all, I’m not… I don’t want to start anything." 

PJ is still sporting his supportive face, the one he reserves for Phil’s ridiculous tendency to shy away from everything that PJ finds easy, but his eyes roll ever so slightly. Phil knows it’s hard for people to understand where he’s coming from, but PJ has always been better than most at dealing with it. 

"You know, not everything about this business is fake."

"Not fake," Phil corrects him with a sigh, "I’m not suggesting Dan isn’t perfectly nice or whatever, he seems funny and I’m sure we’d get on. I’m just not interested in the motivation for it. Without all of the pressure of appearances I doubt he’d even be interested in being my friend. It’s not fake, it’s just… exaggerated."

"Phil…" 

He knows whats coming, because PJ, while more supportive than anyone else Phil knows, is insistent upon not letting Phil get away with hiding.

"Please don’t bring him up." 

"But he’s what this is all about," PJ insists, "not everyone is like him. You had a bad experience with Charlie but… I just wish you’d give something a chance. You’re stuck running in place. Things have changed, moved on, you should too." 

"I’m fine," Phil argues, "I’m not stuck. I just like where I am, I’m comfortable. It isn’t about Charlie."

PJ nods, but his facial expression looks like he doesn’t really believe Phil for a second. He is kind enough to move the conversation on though. 

"Did you get an invite to this YouTube community thing?" he says after they’ve both sipped their coffee. 

Phil has drifted to look out of the window at the passing people. It’s started to spot with rain and he watches as they scatter, holding shopping bags over their heads or fishing umbrellas out of their bags. 

"I did," Phil nods. 

"Are you going?" 

Phil cocks his head and tries not to shrug. It isn’t much of an answer but he’s being doing a lot of it recently, like he can’t find any words. "I don’t know," he says honestly. 

"I think it’ll be good, promoting community and trying new things and all that jazz. It’ll be fun probably, bit of promo for the channel."

"Are there lots of people going?" 

"A few. But it’s a Google-run thing, not a social one, you don’t have to make friends if you don’t want to. If you can cope with a little bit of schmoozing it could be good for you." 

Phil thinks he probably could put up with it for a bit, enough to find out what the whole thing is about, it’s not like he’d have to commit to it. 

"Who… is going?" 

PJ smirks as if he knows exactly what Phil is asking. "Dan won’t be there. He has a BBC thing for the radio show he does. But he’s going to get involved with the project, he just can’t go to the meeting. You probably won’t have to see him." 

Phil pretends he doesn’t feel relieved to hear that, schools his face into nonchalance. 

"Louise will be there, and a few others. Not a massive crowd. Please come, it really will be good for you." 

"I’ll think about it." 

His friend nods as if that’s enough, because it’s more than the usual flat refusal Phil sticks to. He has no idea what’s going on with him lately, he’s getting reckless and is probably heading for a fall, which makes him feel a little shaky. He needs to be more careful. 

"What are you doing for the rest of the day?" 

"It’s an upload day for me," Phil says, "I have one ready to go. I’m trying to do them in advance these days so I don’t have to rush." 

"Good plan, wish I was that organised." 

"You’ll call me if you need me, won’t you?" PJ asks, sipping his coffee. He’s not talking about the video, they both know that. PJ has been around him long enough to notice the signs. 

"I’ll be fine," Phil assures him, "Just… probably best for me to go home. You know, re-charge the batteries. I’ve been doing a lot lately." 

"I was surprised when you called for coffee today." 

"Yeah. I dunno, felt like I should get out. But… it’s… there’s a lot in my head right now."

"You walk in two worlds Phil Lester, just try not to spend too much time in the one in your head, ours is out here is quite good too." 

Phil smiles and wonders how he can tell him that he just doesn’t really feel at home in this one, like he has no connection to it at all. He certainly doesn’t understand the nuances of what is acceptable, what is expected of him. He’s just fumbling along trying to learn the rules from day to day. Sometimes that’s harder than others. 

\--

The flat is quiet when he gets home. It’s welcoming, a piece of calm to his loud thoughts, and he walks through it for a few moments, letting the peace wash over him before getting on with his day. He films a few bits for another video, edits some clips he has on the go and before he knows it it’s time to upload the video for this evening. 

He watches it through one more time, almost wishing he had someone he could ask to look at it before he does. He could ask PJ he supposes, but it all seems a little formal, sending him the file and asking for feedback. What he really wishes he had was someone on hand to just offer a quick opinion before he presses upload. Except having someone on hand would disturb his silence, that quiet remedy he has for his anxious brain. He isn’t lonely, not really, because people are hard work at the best of times, but he sometimes fantasizes about someone who wouldn’t be. In weak moments anyway, and only ever in passing, because that search has led him astray before.

He deems the video good enough, at least for his singular standards anyway, so he goes ahead and clicks upload. It’s a nice little thrill every time he does and it’s enough to snap him from his lethargy and motivate him to cook dinner. He makes a stir-fry quickly, the video going live straight after and he tweets before settling into the couch to eat. By the time he’s finished eating it’s been enough time that people will have watched it and he can begin replying to some comments on Twitter. 

There are some funny reactions, as usual, and he musters up his own witty retorts, his own specific blend of unusual and dorky that comes across, he hopes, as endearing. People seem to like it anyway. 

It’s been difficult getting to the point where he’s comfortable with it, and he has moments of self doubt all the time. But honestly, the persona in his videos it mostly a fabrication at this point, a protective shield. It’s the person he would be were he not plagued with self doubt, if he was bolstered up instead of being a little bit broken. It’s the person he started out as, but after everything he’s just kind of... a shell of that person. It’s why collaborating never works out, because then people can see where the lines are drawn, where AmazingPhil ends and just-regular-Phil starts. He hates to be a disappointment, and that’s all he’ll ever be.

His phone is in his hand when he gets the reply from Dan, it startles him a bit and he fights the smile that threatens to spread on his face, because it so so dangerous to be doing this. He shouldn’t even look, should just leave it be and walk away. He doesn’t have any idea what is making him do this, making him look at the stupid tweet and grin about it. 

**danisnotonfire:** another great video from @AmazingPhil go check it out if you haven’t already guys

He has half a mind to tell Dan Howell that he hasn’t asked him for a promo, definitely doesn’t intend on owing him anything since he’s taken it upon himself to do it anyway. There is an element of quid pro quo about these things usually and he wonders what on earth Dan’s motivation can be for tweeting to his fairly substantial amount of follows and including a link to Phil’s video without asking for something in return first.

His hanging direct message from last night is still there in his inbox, still waiting for a reply. Phil swipes to the screen and hovers in the text box, his stomach a little sick but trying to be determined about it. 

**AmazingPhil:** Thanks for the tweet, glad you liked the video ^_^

It’s such a lame response, but anything else he thinks he might possibly write, like ‘why do you keep tweeting me?’ or ‘Did you mean the things you said in your message or were you just drunk?’ or god forbid ‘No one asked you to shout out my video please back the hell off’ all seem wrong somehow, so he settles for the generic response because at least it’s something, and even that fills him with uncertainty. 

The trouble is that he’s sure Dan’s only angle is that he wants to project some kind of assumed friendship with Phil, tweeting like they’re long time friends so that his followers can continue this bizarre obsession they have with the two of them. Phil doesn’t know what other he could have in replying, the only thing Phil does know is that he wants nothing to do with the facade, wants to stay in his own lane, but is unable to stop himself from leaning into the skid as he careens off-course. He turns on notifications for Dan’s profile so that his phone buzzes in his hand a few moments later when he gets a reply. Dan is quick, he’ll give him that.

**danisnotonfire:** it was a good video

It’s so brief that Phil thinks that will be it, and he can breathe a sigh of relief that this whole thing is over. He bites his lip and taps his foot against his coffee table, listening to the rattle of his empty plate as it is jostled by his movements. Why is he feeling this weird sense of disappointment? 

He doesn’t have time to ponder it much before his phone buzzes again and he’s blinking at his phone and trying to shake it away. 

**danisnotonfire:** i don’t think ive missed a video since i subscribed. jokes aside i am a little in awe that you replied to me

He seems like he’s being… nice. For the sake of it. What is the point of sending these messages where people can’t see them? Surely Dan would prefer to tweet so their followers can see, not send these things in a private message. 

Phil can’t work him out. It’s beginning to get a little ridiculous how much time he’s spending thinking about it, nearly all of today he’s been plagued with these doubts and Dan Howell is infiltrating his conversations with friends and his Twitter notifications and now his own brain. It needs to end. Now. 

He closes Twitter without replying. There. Enough of that now.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 23 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> I went to work an hour and a half early to write this. I was literally at my desk at 7am. 
> 
> Also I appear to have given Phil my specific brand of anxiety in this fic, I’m not suggesting this is what it is like for everyone, nor making any speculations on the real life Phil, this is all just a piece of fiction written with inspiration taken from my own life. Just thought that was worth mentioning.
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

Phil is well aware of his faults. He is useless at most things, most notably interacting with other people because he finds the strange nuances of it all so complicated that he ends up over-thinking it and getting stuck on what to say. It’s a trait he used to try and overcome but has since accepted that it will probably be something he has to deal with for the rest of his life. It’s easier to roll over and accept that he’ll never be any good at it and to just let it be. 

Something else he is good at is never sticking to his resolutions. He’s not exactly fickle, it’s just that when he begins the endless cycle of thinking about everything too much he can often find himself flip-flopping on something he was so resolute about only a day before. This is what happens when it comes to messaging Dan Howell. 

The morning after he’s decided to simply ignore Dan until he goes away, when he’s left the message Dan sent him about how he’s in awe of him hanging in his inbox without a reply, Phil wakes to a familiar sense of dread. 

It’s early, way too early, but he’s jerked awake by his stomach dropping so that it feels like it is hovering somewhere near his knees. His heart rate has picked up slightly too, his breathing into his pillow a little faster than normal. He isn’t going to black out or panic or throw up, but he does feel shaky and has that churned-up bile collected in his belly like he gets sometimes, the one that comes with fear of something he can’t name. 

He sits against his pillow, dragging himself up even though his automatic instinct when waking up like this is usually to burrow down in his bed and hide from the world. But he’s trying to be mindful, to analyse his thought processes. Someone told him it was useful once, a while ago, before he’d decided it was better if he just didn’t talk about things. Mainly because it’s ridiculous, and there are so many worse things in the world, that his own silly little hang-ups barely register as a problem. 

He tries to sort through how he’s feeling, cycling through all the things he did yesterday to find the source of his mild panic. Coffee with PJ was fine, a little uncomfortable in the conversation perhaps but nothing drastic enough to make him feel like this. Then filming and editing new stuff, uploading what he already had waiting to go. Video-making never makes him feel like this, it’s the one thing he can always count on to bring him the exact opposite of this feeling. 

The only thing left is Dan Howell and the messages on Twitter. Dan Howell and him telling Phil that he’s in awe of him. That sparks something low and back in his head and he knows he’s landed on what's making him feel like this. He’d left his message unanswered, which is just so rude and no wonder people are beginning to think he’s standoffish because who does that when someone sends them a compliment? 

It’s because of the whole forced-friendship thing. Which, yes, that’s still a problem for Phil, but at this precise second he can’t stop the loop of _he hates you he hates you he hates you_ from rattling around his head. Which is absurd because isn’t that what he wants? For Dan to leave him alone?

He doesn’t, it turns out, because the only thing that settles the nausea to manageable level is deciding to message him back, just to say thank you. 

He hates the way his brain rebels against him like this. Taking a perfectly good decision like avoiding Dan Howell entirely for the sake of preserving himself, and making him change his mind about it. He sometimes thinks there is a separate voice in his brain, not an actual other person, just another side to him that whispers to him about anything he resolves to do to tell him how bad of an idea it is.

Anxiety. His brain supplies the term, recalling it from years ago, as if wanting a name for itself. That’s what they’d called it back in early 2010, when he was really bad, when the world around him just became a blur of colour and sound and he couldn’t make out any sense in any of it and he was rubbed raw by it all, skinned to the bone. He’s doing much better these days, he’s functioning for the most part, he just has days like this every now and again, when that tiny voice is a constant loop, a mantra of _you’re wrong_ and _you’ll never be good enough_.

If messaging Dan is what will make this go away, then he’s willing to try anything. His phone is in his slightly vibrating grasp before he has a chance to re-think it yet again. This needs to stop, because wasting this many emotions on Dan Howell of all people is just… he has no idea where it’s come from. Except that he’s the first person Phil has even taken note of in a while, even if it is all because of some fans on Twitter deciding it for him.

**AmazingPhil:** Thank you. I’ve watched all your videos too :)

There. He’s thanked him, returned the sentiment about watching his videos, he can go back to being asleep at four in the morning instead of ruminating on a problem of his own invention. 

He places the phone on his bedside table, but no sooner has it made contact it’s buzzing loudly. Phil sucks in a sharp breath, feeling it fill his lungs and stay there, breath caught in his ribs like a stopper to whatever it is forcing its way up. He keeps holding his breath and picks the phone back up. 

**danisnotonfire:** are you a night owl too?

Phil is pondering that message when another message comes through. 

**danisnotonfire:** oh god that totally sounded like a ‘u up?’ message

**danisnotonfire:** not what i meant

Dan messages like he talks, in Phil’s limited knowledge supplied by his videos anyway. It’s all in a rush of individual sentences that shouldn’t all fit together but do somehow, like he’s thinking of the next one before he’s even finished typing the first. Phil, despite himself, finds that he’s laughing, the pit of his stomach no longer a mess of acid and trepidation. 

**AmazingPhil:** I just woke up in the middle of the night. It’s 4am, are you suggesting you’ve stayed up this late?

**danisnotonfire:** not an unusual occurrence tbh i was on my usual wikipedia quest

**danisnotonfire:** you woke up in the middle of the night and chose to message me? i’m flattered

Phil isn’t touching that one, discussing why exactly he’s chosen to message Dan back at an ungodly hour isn’t even an option. He hadn’t expected a response so he didn’t really think he was going to get called out on it.

**AmazingPhil:** A quest for something in particular or just a jaunt into the unknown?

**danisnotonfire:** just delving into the deep corners of the internet for interesting facts 

**AmazingPhil:** The blue whale can produce the loudest noise of any animal on the planet.

What? Phil has typed it and sent it before he’s thought about it, caught up in the conversation. And this is not like him, he does not engage like this without thinking about it first. He’s being incautious and diving headlong into this and he doesn’t understand why. Dan’s boyish smile and devil-may-care attitude overwriting his usually careful way of approaching the world. Phil is not thinking about his smile, or the dimple in his cheek, or the colour of his eyes. He isn’t.

**danisnotonfire:** makes sense 

**danisnotonfire:** i hadn’t heard that fact before guess i can go to bed now my task is complete

**AmazingPhil:** Okay ^_^ Goodnight!

Phil breathes a sigh of relief and tries to let it go, but Dan won’t let him off the hook. 

**danisnotonfire:** i mean i probably still won’t sleep

**danisnotonfire:** since you’re awake and im likely to still be for a while did you want to get a coffee or something

He’s considering it. He’s actually considering leaving the house at four in the morning to meet someone he barely knows for coffee. The realisation hits him square in the gut, along with the one that he is no longer feeling anxious, just intrigued. What the hell is happening to him? This is all so contrary to his usual style, how is Dan bloody Howell making him feel like this? Hadn’t he decided not to do this, not to engage with his madness. He doesn’t need it, so why does he feel so compelled to say yes?

**danisnotonfire:** it would totally break twitter if we were to post a selfie at stupid o’clock in the morning

And there is exactly the reason why he shouldn’t. His impulsivity when it comes to Dan Howell is all founded in something manufactured, an entirely made-up fantasy in which they could ever actually be friends. Which, yes, Phil is realising he might actually have wanted if any of it was real. That is a thought for another time. 

This isn’t real though, it’s all for the views and the clickbait and the… acclaim. Dan Howell isn’t interested in being friends with Phil, he wants AmazingPhil, god, Dan doesn’t even know the real Phil. He suspects that followers or not, if Dan did actually know him, the real him, he wouldn’t be trying so hard.

**AmazingPhil:** I’m actually going to go back to sleep now. Goodnight Dan.

**danisnotonfire:** oh okay goodnight Phil

Phil is amazed to find he actually sleeps. 

\--

Dan takes to contacting him at random intervals. Sometimes it’s just in response to when Phil tweets, a reply tweet that sends his fans spiralling into a frenzy. Other times it’s an animal fact waiting for him in a direct message when he wakes up. He tries not to reply, he really does, but it’s more difficult that he thought it would be. More difficult than it has been with other people before.

Dan reminds him of the radio show he does on a Sunday and Phil tunes in while he’s editing. He’s drifting in and out, honestly only tuning back in here he hears Dan talking as opposed to listening to the music. He knows it’s also a video stream online but but he can’t quite bring himself to watch it. This sometimes means he misses out on the visual gags, but Dan is a natural on the air, remembering to describe things to the audience who can’t see him. 

At one point Dan mentions Phil’s whale fact, saying that it’s something ‘a friend’ told him recently. He asks the audience to tweet in and tell him more interesting animals he can share with said friend. 

Phil has to pause what he’s doing at that point and remind himself that Dan referring to him as a friend is all just for show. Shorthand maybe. He hasn’t gone as far as mentioning who he is, which is fine, but maybe Phil could join in, just this once, to prolong the warm feeling that spreads through him down to his fingertips at hearing Dan call him his friend. 

He makes note of the hashtag and picks up his phone.

**AmazingPhil:** For every human in the world there are one million ants. #animalfactsfordan

When the song ends, Phil turns the volume up slightly. He knows it’s a long shot that Dan even saw his tweet but, something is making him hope that he has. 

“So remember when I told you a friend of mine told me an interesting fact about blue whales, and that I had taken to sending him strange animal facts? I’ve been asking you to tweet me with the hashtag animals facts for Dan and the responses have been great.” 

Dan reads a few of the facts out, shouting out their usernames and commenting on them briefly. He’s funny, Phil can’t help but laugh, his head turned towards the radio window on his computer and the editing forgotten for the moment. 

“And finally, turns out my friend is listening and decided to tweet me an animal fact of his own. AmazingPhil on twitter says that for every person on earth there are one million ants. Is that true, Phil? I mean… surely we’d be overrun. I don’t know about you everyone listening, but I am going to be keeping an eye out for militarised ants in the future, if they ever realise they outnumber us so much I guarantee they’ll rise up and that will be the end of the human race and life as we know it.” 

Phil is full-body laughing now, hunched over in his chair and giggling, he doesn’t even feel nervous as he looks to Twitter to see the response to what has happened. This, it turns out, is a mistake.

**chiarawonder:** @danisnotonfire and @AmazingPhil send each other animals facts? That is so cute!! #phanimalfacts anyone?

**phanobsessive:** honestly ants could take over the world and the ship still wouldn’t die @danisnotonfire and @Amazingphil are adorable #phanimalfacts

**howelldoyoudo:** @AmazingPhil and @danisnotonfire haven’t even met and yet they’re still my otp 

That makes Phil take stock a little bit. It’s all well and good people speculating over whether two youtubers have met when they’re consistently in the space places, it’s a little disconcerting that they are invested in them being friends so much that Dan sees value in touting a fake friendship everywhere, but shipping? Isn’t that going a bit far? There is literally no basis for it whatsoever.

He has to put his phone down and ignore it for a while, just to try and get his head around it.

Dan tweets him an hour later when Phil has finished editing his video and the radio show is over. It’s going too far, things are trending and Dan is tweeting him about it publicly and… it’s going too far. Phil never should have gotten involved in the way that he has, never should have sent that tweet, never should have replied to him in the first place. 

**danisnotonfire:** #phanimalfacts is trending @AmazingPhil what have we done?

Phil has no idea how to get out of this now, because when he thinks about cutting ties with Dan he finds that something heavy like a stone sits on his chest, a melancholy he doesn’t want to be there but is. He’s sort of grown used to Dan messaging him at random points throughout the day, sharing insight into his day, or else having a fact to wake up to so that he knows Dan had been thinking about him on his middle-of-the-night wikipedia quests. He doesn't want to take it any further, and the idea of becoming complicit in some sort of deception leaves bad taste in his mouth, but he’s gotten used to it. 

He knows that Dan doesn’t mean any of it, knows it’s headed to an inevitable end when Dan realises he isn’t going to gain anything from the association and that Phil will be left bereft and emotionally compromised by once again attempting to seek any sort of connection in this world. But his cheeks flame when he thinks that, while he knows it is a bad idea, the worst idea possibly, he’s in too deep now to even think about stopping.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 24 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> this was written on the same day as yesterday’s chapter. I’m in love with this fic and it seems you guys are too… thank you so much for all your kind comments, I really really really love reading them all. 
> 
> My friend is here this weekend so I’ll try and get tomorrow’s up but it might not be possible. I’ll try for you guys though! 
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

The morning he’s due to go to the meeting at Google Phil awakes to, not an animal fact, but something different, something that makes Phil’s heart stutter in his chest.

**danisnotonfire:** I sometimes watch your videos in the middle of the night when im alone

**danisnotonfire:** this direct message thing is great and all but would you want to maybe swap numbers instead

Dan’s drunk tweeting really needs to stop, Phil hadn’t got to bed especially early last night which means these messages must have been sent in the early hours of the morning again. Always with the late nights is Dan, Phil wonders what on earth he gets up to. Surely Wikipedia can’t hold his attention for all of that time. 

He contemplates it only for a few moments until he decides to just send Dan his number. What harm can it do? He doesn’t comment on the first part of his message, because that is just too much and it’s liable to set Phil off over-thinking things again and he can’t deal with that today, not when he has to go and deal with the schmoozing. 

He sends it quickly and locks his phone, sets about getting ready for the day. A favourite shirt and jumper serve as his armour for the day, wrapped in the comfortable bright colours of his persona he hopes they will speak for him, act as a sort of presence in a way his personality is liable to fail at. 

When he gets there he’s mostly fine, PJ meets him at the door quite by coincidence and walking into the crowded room with another person isn’t as intimidating as it would have been alone. The people there are all people he vaguely knows, PJ and Louise most notably, but also a couple of other British youtubers, not as many as he’d originally thought to be honest. 

He’s handed a coffee in a stubby plastic cup and it’s hot and bitter and not nearly enough, but it gives him something to hold and sip at when he wants to avoid eye contact with people so it’s excusable. 

"Phil!" Louise greets him, hugging him tight. 

Phil likes hugging, he’s been told he’s good at, probably due to his height. He just doesn’t get a lot of opportunity to indulge in it, so when Louise pulls him in her might linger half a second longer than is normal, but she doesn’t react in a way that means he has to think about it any more than just a passing reminder to himself to stop doing it. 

"Are you excited to find out what this is all about?" she asks him when they part. 

"Sure," Phil nods, "any ideas?" 

"Some," she smiles, "It’s a community thing right? Probably some focus on British youtubers in some way, they’ve been taking off more than the Americans at the moment." 

"It’s the accent," Phil jokes, "though not mine, I tend to get a bit northern." he says the second half of his sentence in said accent just to illustrate. 

She giggles and swats at him with a manicured hand and he grins back at her, stepping gracefully out of the way of her waving appendage. Louise is lovely company when she isn’t trying to force him to gossip. 

"So I’ve seen you all over twitter AmazingPhil," she says, her tone sing-song and knowing. So much for avoiding the gossip part of the day. "Tweeting our very own danisnotonfire, the fangirls are positively salivating. You naughty boys." 

"It’s not..." he’s going to tell her it isn’t like that, that they’re just tweeting randomly not because they’re trying to encourage the fan girls but… aren’t they?

“Whatever it is it’s working,” Louise encourages when he doesn’t finish his sentence. “There’s a ship name now isn’t there? PJ have you seen this?” 

She grabs PJ as he walks past, fingers gripping onto his arm and not letting him move on.

“Have I seen what?” PJ asks, sipping on a cup of water.

“Young Phil here tweeting one Dan Howell.” 

“I saw,” PJ nods, eyeing Phil over the rim of his cup. 

“It’s absolutely scandalous. I demand you tell me everything once this thing is over. There’s a ship name and everything Peej.” 

“Phan,” PJ agrees, “versatile little thing. Not so useful when said out loud but written down makes for some lovely puns.” 

“Stop,” Phil insists, “Please. It’s so stupid, I just want it over.” 

“Wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth Phil,” Louise tuts, “some of us would kill for the kind of follower interaction you guys get.” 

" _We_ don’t get anything,” Phil corrects her, his voice in danger of sounding actually upset, “It’s just…" but again he can’t finish that sentence, because he has no idea what it is. 

“He not coming today anyway?” Louise asks, scanning the room. 

“He has a thing at the BBC today,” Phil says automatically, because Dan had mentioned it to him in a message yesterday. Not one Phil had replied to but still, he’d filed the information away it seems. “He’s still getting involved but there’s another session tomorrow as well apparently.” 

Louise just crooks and eyebrow at him but doesn’t get a chance to comment on Phil’s extensive Dan Howell Schedule knowledge because the guy leading the meeting walks in and asks them all to please sit down. 

They settle in red arm chairs facing the front of the room and it appears this is going to be a casual thing, there’s no powerpoint projected onto the wall or plasma screen presentation, just a guy he recognises as running some of the community content for YouTube, though his name escapes Phil for the moment. 

He sits through a 45 minutes talk about the project they’re proposing. A series of videos, written, directed, edited and starring the creators themselves to promote the British YouTube community. They’ll be uploaded onto their own channels so as to promote them, but pinned to YouTube’s own homepage and marketed out by their team for a run in a few months time. It will be a month long celebration event, ‘the British invasion’, kind of. 

“I know it all seems a little bit like what you guys are doing already, and that’s great, that’s what we want… more of what you guys are good at, that’s why you’ve been invited here today. But obviously we want to put a spin on it. So we have two groups we’re asking to get involved and what we want to do is pair each of you up with a person from the other group.” 

Phil sighs and starts tapping his toes on the floor restlessly. Pairing up with someone he doesn't know does not sound like his idea of a good time. 

“We want to promote the idea of community so we’re going to try and mix it up, put together some people that haven’t collaborated before. Which… is tricky considering you guys all seem to be pretty tight knit.” 

The room laughs, because the British guys have sort of intermingled in an endearing way over the years, especially as there were so few of them back in the day, and the American guys had gotten bigger at first. Still, they’re really giving them a run for their money these days, literally in some cases. 

He goes on to explain the premise of the project a little more, the ethos of the thing, what they want to get out of it, video length, style, some ideas for content that kind of thing, and then it’s over. 

Phil stands and stretches out his legs, wondering how long he has to stay and network before he can just go home and contemplate whether he even wants to get involved in this at all. It’s an attractive idea, and the revenue it would generate for his channel is obviously a contributing factor to him wanting to get involved, and he’s always up for promoting their community, youTube has done so much for him over the years, has been his only place of solace in an otherwise loud and unnavigable world. He just doesn’t really see the appeal in collaborating with a stranger. 

He’s trying to stick near the drink’s table under the pretence of pouring himself more terrible coffee when the community rep corners him. 

“Phil, I’m glad I caught you,” he said, holding his hand out to shake. 

Phil fumbles with the cup he’s holding in one hand and the coffee pot in the other, awkwardly juggling them for a second before putting them both down on the table with an audible thump, wiping his hands on his jeans and holding his hand out to shake after a length of time that almost makes the whole thing not worth it anymore. Smooth Phil, always so smooth. 

“I just wanted to catch up with you quickly about this project because we’d really like you to get involved. We understand the direction you’re taking your channel in doesn’t really lend itself to collaboration, and that it isn’t something you’ve done a lot of in the past. But the bits you have done have been really great, and we love your content, we really hope you’ll come on board.” 

Phil is nodding, like he understands any of what this guy is saying to him over the rush of questions in his own head about the whole thing, the loud booming argument between his heart wanting to help promote the community and try something for once, engage with the world instead of hiding behind his camera, and the voice in his head telling him he’ll just mess it all up. 

“Who did you have in mind for collaboration?” Phil asks, quite unexpectedly to both of them. Great, now he sounds like some kind of diva who picks and chooses who he works with, like he’s difficult. “I mean.. I..I don’t really.. Mind. I just… wondered what direction you... You know, what you’d been thinking.” 

Now he sounds like a babbling idiot. 

The guy just grins at him and says, “Well, there is a lot of buzz on Twitter right now.” 

And Phil knows, because how could it have been anyone else? The universe is determined to throw them together somehow, so he isn’t even surprised at what he says next. 

“About you and Dan Howell.” 

Phil manages to keep his face completely blank but it’s a feat that hasn’t been matched in his lifetime. 

“Dan Howell,” he repeats and Louise comes up behind him to pour herself some orange juice. “You want me to collaborate with Dan Howell?” 

“Just think of the views,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “The much anticipated first meeting of AmazingPhil and danisnotonfire as part of a youTube community event? It could be the finale of the month, the big thing we build to.” 

“Right.” 

“Give it some thought,” he says, “Dan has already said he’s interested. He’s coming in tomorrow for the official presentation but we pinned him down early on.” 

Louise is lingering behind him, making a job of pouring her drink and Phil knows it’s because she’s listening in to the conversation. 

“I’ll… give it some thought.” Phil nods. 

“That’s all we’re asking for right now,” the guy nods, “I’ll let you get on but please… call me when you make up your mind.” he slips a card from his back pocket into Phil’s hand and leaves him to Louise’s considerable presence. 

“How much do you need me to repeat?” Phil asks, “Or did you hear it all?” 

“Oh I already heard about it from Dan,” Louise says, patting him on the arm. “He’s quite excited about it.” 

“I’m sure... " Phil deadpans, “Think of the views.” 

“No,” Louise corrects him,”well, yes but… I think he’s genuinely excited about working with you. If you want to get involved that is… he really has been a fan of your work for a long time.” 

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Phil confesses, picking his coffee back up as a distraction from having to look at Louise’s earnest expression and fathom a response to Dan Howell being a fan. 

“Say you’ll do it,” Louise shrugs. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

“Okay,” Louise says, “You do that.” 

\--

He’s leaving the building when his phone starts ringing. He’s trying to put his jumper back on over his head and he gets tangled in it as he tries to reach for the phone in his pocket at the same time. Consequently, he collides with someone coming in through the door and mumbles an apology while jabbing at his phone and holding it to his ear. 

“Hello?” he says, voice muffled by the jumper coming down finally over his head, the wool of it getting caught in his mouth slightly. 

“Phil?” 

Phil pauses, jumper half pulled down his torso, still rucked up on one side, half way out of the door and half in, blocking the path. 

“Dan?” 

It’s embarrassing, because he doesn’t have Dan’s number stored in his phone so it isn’t caller ID giving him that information, just one word, his own name, uttered in that oh-so-familiar voice and he knows who it is instantly. 

“Yeah.” 

“Um... hi?” 

“What are you doing Phil?” 

“I’m... " he looks around himself and catches his reflection in the glass door. He steps out of the doorway and onto the street, straightening his clothes finally so that he looks a bit more put together. His facial expression is giving away how flustered he is though. “I’m just leaving a meeting. Um, what are… what are you doing?” 

Is that lame, just repeating Dan’s question back to him? Perhaps Dan was asking about something specific rather than just inquiring about his whereabouts, or maybe he meant it more in a general ‘how are you’ kind of way and he’s gone and told Dan what he’s _actually_ doing and--

“I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee with me.” 

“Oh.” Phil’s thought process stops in it’s tracks. It’s not something that happens very often but Dan Howell inviting him for coffee is just enough of a shock to make it happen. There had been that time a few weeks ago in the middle of the night, back when they first started talking, but Phil had been sure he was joking. Dan’s voice on the phone now is not mocking in the slightest. “Um… okay?” 

“You’re at Google right?” 

“Yes.. I’m… at Google.” he finished lamely. Jesus, when did he forget how to hold even the easiest of conversations? He’s never been good at it but this is a whole new level of incompetence. 

“I’m in the area, my meeting ended early. Meet me at the Starbucks around the corner in about 20 minutes?” 

Phil doesn’t give himself the option of backing out, even though that voice in his head is screaming at him about how much of a bad idea this is. But something about Dan’s voice in his ear is drowning it out and he finds himself agreeing before the voice has a chance to really take hold. 

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll see you there.” 

“Great, looking forward to it.” Dan enthuses before saying goodbye and hanging up. And he sounds genuine, like he really is looking forward to it. 

Phil puts his phone back in his pocket, looks at his reflection in the glass again, ruffling his hair in a way that doesn’t really do much but is good enough for now, admonishes himself for giving a crap about what he looks like, and finds that he is looking forward to it too.

He shouldn’t be, because this is a precipice, a dangerous moment before the drop into the freefall of Dan Howell’s stupid play for attention on social media and yet… his voice on the phone was so compelling that Phil wants to go. He wants to sit in a steamed up cafe with Dan Howell and watch his brown eyes over the top of a coffee cup. He wants to know what he orders, what they might talk about, whether he’ll be offended when Phil has to get out his phone to have something to focus on when his brain inevitably acts up and he needs a distraction. He wants to know these things, even though he knows it’s a reckless, stupid idea.

He gives in to the wanting and turns in the direction of Starbucks.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 25 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> I am in awe of you guys and all your thoughtful, amazing comments. I am reading every single one and trying to reply to them all but I’m sorry if there is a delay!
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

Twenty minutes Dan had said. The Starbucks is maybe 10 minutes away on foot and although nerves are making his feet drag Phil still makes it there with time to spare. The problem, Phil realises as soon as he does, is that he can’t just sit there and wait for Dan to come in. He can picture it now, that awkward moment when waiting and stationary, having to distract yourself so as to not hold unnerving eye contact as someone slowly makes their way to you. But you can’t look away because that’s rude, like you’re just ignoring them.

Starbucks makes this even worse, because if you make eye contact with them when they come in then you have to wait as they get their coffee at the counter and just fidget softly in your seat until they join you. Phil suddenly feels stricken with the overwhelming sense of being out of place, like the pieces of him don’t fit into where he is standing. He oscillates on the pavement for a long time, going back and forth deciding whether to go in or not. 

He’s mid-way between one point and another, staring at his shoes and willing them to offer any kind of opinion on the subject when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. He jumps slightly, the contact surprising him far too much, like he hasn’t experienced anyone in his personal space before even though he’s rubbed raw from interacting with people all day. 

“Hey Phil.” 

The voice is familiar again, and it greets him like an old friend rather than the strangers they are so he knows what to expect when he turns around. It’s nothing on the real thing. It’s like the definition has been turned up, like pixels are smoothed out, defined. He’s in wonderful, beautiful technicolour even though he’s in his usual attire of all-black. 

“Ah!” is all Phil can offer in way of response. 

“Sorry, did I make you jump?” 

Yes. But, no. Because with all his procrastination, hesitation, Phil should have expected this to happen, that Dan would arrive and catch him in the act. It’s embarrassing to be found pacing to yourself outside a coffee shop but it might still be preferable to the alternative so Phil can at least be happy about that. 

“Only slightly.” 

He can see the laugh in Dan’s eyes when he hears it, a sound like drizzled honey, thick and glorious with golden flecks in his irises to match. 

“Shall we?” Dan says pointing to the door Phil has been avoiding. 

He manages a nod, even though he’s distracted watching Dan move his long limbs, but is ushered ahead of him, a startling hand on his lower spine to guide him through the door. Dan moves with a sort of natural ease, each movement fluid despite his height. 

Phil is pleasantly surprised to find that Dan is actually around an inch or two taller than him which is a novelty he didn’t even really know he needed until it’s happening. The slight tilt of his head when looking up at him is an angle he hasn’t needed in some time. 

“The all important Starbucks order,” Dan is laughing again, he keeps doing that, and it keeps catching Phil off guard by how distracting it is. He is trying to focus in on the words that are coming from Dan’s mouth though, rather than simply watching it twist into a smile, the dimple on his cheek endlessly fascinating without the barrier of a computer screen. “I’m going to judge you harshly based on what you order, just to let you know.” 

They reach the counter at that moment and Phil is suddenly faced with the expectant faces of not only the barista but also Dan, looking at him with good humour dancing in his eyes and waiting for him to order.

“C-Caramel Macchiato,” He stammers, looking more at Dan than he is the girl behind the counter, even though it’s a little like looking at the sun for how nervous and stunned he feels. 

“Okay,” Dan says, and he’s looking back at Phil, maintaining eye contact until he has to give his order too. “You pass. I’ll have the same.”

Then Dan is pulling out his wallet and waving away Phil’s protesting gestures, dropping his fingers onto the back of Phil’s hand and pressing gently, easing them away.

“I’ll get these,” Dan smiles simply, “You can get it next time.” 

Phil swallows, breathing in caffeinated air through his nose and wondering where Dan got the idea that there would be a next time. This is a slip, right? A moment of weakness on Phil’s part because he got caught off guard today when he was vulnerable from already being out of the house. 

They move to the end of the counter and wait for their drinks. 

“So, basic question, favourite band?” Dan asks, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, his arms long and angled and perfect. 

Phil is trying to not prop his own hands in his pockets because that would just be copying Dan’s movements, and he also has a tendency to do this weird claw-like thing, twisting his arms into himself, curled up and backwards as if insisting his own awkwardness with his physicality. The trouble is, without it he has no idea what he should be doing with his hands so he just lets them hang limply at his sides.

“I… um, I like Muse, I guess..." He lets it trail off because it’s such a lame answer considering. 

He curls his toes in his shoes and tries to shake off this misplaced feeling he has, the way he’s overthinking every tiny movement now that he’s up this close to Dan, leaning against the counter in his casual, naturally eased way that is making Phil wish he had the same talent. 

“I do too,” Dan grins excitedly. 

“I know, I… saw it in… oh god, I sound so stupid right now. I saw it in your video. That’s not… that’s not why I said…" Phil rubs his hands against his jeans where they’ve become sweaty and just pauses for a second to settle himself. “I genuinely like them, I’m not just saying that to like, find common ground or something.” 

Dan shakes his head fondly, “You always like this?” 

“Like what?” 

“Nervous? Or… you know, unsure.” 

The barista calls for their drink orders before Phil can answer and he’s thankful for the opportunity to avoid answering while he thinks of what to say. He insists on carrying the tray and they make their way over to some thankfully free sofas by the window. Phil sits down on one of them, balancing the tray on the table and expecting Dan to sit on the other side of the table. He doesn’t. 

Dan shuffles into the sofa next to him, angling himself towards Phil so that their knees brush and Phil is very aware of how much physical space he occupies, how long his limbs are, and how out of place everything feels. Except, the warmth of Dan’s knee against his own is comforting, grounding almost, so he lets his knee press back, just a little, not so Dan would notice. It’s an absent-minded gesture on Dan’s part, Phil assumes, but he’ll take advantage of it while it’s helping. 

“I’m not very good at the friends thing,” Phil says finally, when he realises Dan isn’t speaking until he answers his question.

Dan’s leg moves a little so that it is more than their knees touching, the press of his thigh is warm. 

“Me either,” Dan admits, shrugging like it’s no big deal. 

He can’t possibly know just how bad Phil really is at it though, but he can’t blame Dan for that, he’s gotten pretty good at faking it over the years. He needs to be shrugging on his AmazingPhil mask right now, stop slipping into his actual self because otherwise Dan might leave, and he’s finding that he doesn’t want that to happen. 

“Plus it’s always weird meeting other YouTubers, isn’t it?” Dan elaborates, “Because it’s kind of like we already know so much… the stuff that’s out there anyway.”

“Yeah…" 

“And me more than you, I’d bet.” Dan winks, a tinge of a blush spreading across his face, “You know, stalking since 07 and all that. Complete AmazingPhil trash.” 

“I’d… I’d know a fair bit too I imagine,” Phil says, downplaying how much extraneous Dan Howell knowledge he has stored away, absorbed when watching his videos but moreso recently.

“So I asked about your favourite band,” Dan says, alight with a new idea. “You should ask me something back. Something you don’t know yet.”

“Um…" Phil thinks for a moment, wondering what on earth he could ask that doesn’t seem invasive, but that he doesn’t already know, but that he wants to. “What did you think of the project idea for the YouTube community thing?” 

Dan shifts back slightly, sinking against the arm of the couch so that his thigh is pulled away from Phil’s, Phil watches the minute twitch of his brow into a frown before it corrects itself, smoothing out back into the smile which is starting to be familiar. Phil wants it to be familiar, he could look at it all day because it means Phil isn’t doing anything wrong, that his attempts at friendship might be working. 

“I think it’s interesting,” Dan says slowly, “I’m looking forward to being involved. Anything to support the community right? It’s done… well, it means a lot to me and I kind of what to give back to it a little bit.” 

Phil is nodding like his neck is unhinged, manic and wide-gestured. “Me too.” 

“Great, so you’d want to work with me?” 

That isn’t what he’d meant at all. He was trying to agree with the general sentiment of wanting to give back, that YouTube means a lot to him. He hasn’t fully decided that he wants to work on the project with Dan, especially considering how because it’s grown out of control it’s not only Dan’s plan to feed off Phil’s subscriber count that’s in effect, but will be backed up by a professional marketing campaign by YouTube itself that builds to their eventual collaboration as the climax to a month-long event. It’s everything he’s been trying to avoid. 

But Dan is looking at him with wide excited eyes and Phil feels like if he could burrow so far into this sofa that it swallowed him whole he would do it in a second. He feels his face turn an alarming shade of red and he twists his fingers together against his jeans. 

“I… um…" 

“I think it would be really good,” Dan says, laying a warm palm over the top of Phil’s floundering hands. “I know you don’t… you probably don’t want to get stuck with me, dark and gloomy sexually ambiguous nerd, but you know… I think a mix of your quirky genius and my sarcastic wit might actually be a pretty golden opportunity for both of us.” 

Phil coughs, using the excuse of the movement to pull his hand away, put some distance between him and Dan because he can’t think when Dan is touching him. He’s not used to people being in his personal space and it feels wrong, like he’s suddenly aware of every part of himself and how uncoordinated he is. 

He just needs to keep this professional. It’s just a job, and if that entails a little bit of marketing on his behalf then that’s fine. He’s almost come around to the idea, but it doesn’t stop this creeping feeling of disappointment he’s feeling that this isn’t built on anything real. He will never be Dan’s friend properly, it will always be this shallow work-induced association. He needs to learn to take what he can get. 

“It will be good for YouTube and good for the channel,” Phil says finally, leaving it at that. It isn’t an overt agreement to do it, not really showing much enthusiasm, but it’s enough to let Dan know he’s on board with it. As far as he has to be and no further. 

“Okay, great.” Dan says, and he sounds happy but Phil watches him shift backwards and away, pulling his hands out of Phil’s personal space. He is probably relieved that he doesn’t have to do much more convincing and can drop a bit of the act he’d adopted, thinking he’d have to lay it on thick to get Phil to agree. 

“So, I suppose that’s it for today?” Phil asks. His coffee isn’t finished, and neither is Dan’s but he’s beginning to feel claustrophobic crammed onto this small couch with him, like he can’t breathe. 

“Er, yeah. Great.” Dan says, shuffling about. “Could, um… This is going to sound so random but I swore to myself that I’d ask you. Could we maybe take a selfie?” 

Phil is a little shocked at the questions before realising the reasoning behind it. “Oh yea, for Twitter, of course. I mean… gotta give the fans what they want right?”

“Sure,” Dan nods, “For the fans.” 

Phil lets his body lean diagonally and Dan already has his phone in his hands and he’s reaching a long arm upwards, capturing that classic high-tilted angle that is way more flattering that any other. Phil puts a smile on his face, the one reserved for AmazingPhil, and it looks convincing enough but he knows if he looks closely it won’t really reach his eyes. 

Dan hits the button a few times, giving them options, but Phil doesn't really move, just focuses on keeping a tiny stretch of distance between them so he can think. He holds the phone out to Phil to confirm he’s happy with the picture but Phil just nods, not really looking. He makes an aborted motion to wave it away, like everything is fine. 

“Thanks,” Dan says, “I’ll er… just let you…" He stands up and shifts out of the way so Phil can stand and pass him. 

“Thanks,” Phil says, squeezing past him in the small space between him and the next table. He’s concentrating on not tripping so he doesn't really notice how close they are until he looks up from his feet and Dan is _right there_. 

“I had a really good time.” Dan says, and Phil wonders how on earth he can say that when it didn’t really even last that long. But this is all Phil can handle for today. “I’m looking forward to doing the video. I’ll text you to set it up? I think I have some ideas.” 

“Sure,” Phil nods, knowing he’ll have to come up with something to bring to the table too. If they’re going to do this professional relationship thing he needs to keep his end of the bargain. Besides, he really doesn’t want this to turn into the Dan show, it needs to be a true collaboration. He isn’t great at them, but he’ll give it a go.

“See you soon then,” Dan says.

There’s an awkward moment that Phil knows is usually filled with a hug or a handshake or something but Phil puts his hands in his pockets and just says “Goodbye.”

He doesn’t run out of the coffee shop, but it’s a near thing. 

\--

Phil is sat on his couch and trying to avoid giving up for the day when his phone buzzes on the coffee table. He knows what it is before he picks it up and stares at his phone as if the offending object is the one responsible for how disappointed he is going to feel about being right. 

It’s all just such an anticlimax, a throw away day of something that should have been… something more. It’s the first time he wishes that he could be better. That he could just shrug off his issues for one day and be truly him, not this amalgamation of everything that is wrong with him. Maybe then he’d have been able to charm Dan into wanting to be his friend for real, or else been happy to go along with the mutually beneficial arrangement of collaborating to expand both of their channels. 

As it is, he’s left with this bitter taste in his mouth as he lifts his phone and unlocks it to see exactly what he expected to. 

It's the selfie they took in Starbucks, Tweeted and then already with over a thousand replies of keyboard smashing comments and #phan being thrown in for good measure. 

**danisnotonfire:** your fave nerdy british boys met irl finally are you hyped? @AmazingPhil

The tweet itself makes him sigh and curl up and want to just leave, just have this whole thing be over for today, take some space and deal with it all later when he can make sense out of everything he’s feeling about it. It’s all become mixed up and complicated which is the thing he’d been so passionate about avoiding, but something about Dan is making him reckless, and he thinks it’s the useless desire he has to have this be real. It has come on so strongly, unexpectedly. Phil hasn’t felt the need for a new friend in so long, had been content to just exist with his issues, keep moving from day to day going through the motions, shrouded in coping mechanisms, fearful of rocking the boat by either moving forward or backwards, just lingering in this state of ‘existence’ if not ‘living’. 

Something about Dan’s smile and stupid dimple and contagious sense of humour is making him think about fixing it all for the first time in a long time. He wants to be better, but also not, because it's such an uphill climb and the thing that he’s craving isn’t even real. The Dan that he wants is the one that he’s invented in his head, made up of the person presented in Dan’s videos and the fake smile he’d put on his face during their meeting and Phil’s runaway imagination. 

It;s pointless, and yet his chest aches with the effort of reminding himself of that. Mostly he’s just sad, looking at the selfie and his half hearted smile and the cute grin of Dan next to him, longing for the thing it’s pretending to be, knowing it isn’t possible.

If looking at the picture makes Phil feel this bad, he should definitely stay out of the comments, shouldn’t be reading replies, but he can’t help it.

**frozeneyes76:** Is it just me or do they look super good together? #phan

**AmazzingJenna:** It’s so good to see Phil with a friend again after everything that happened

Phil grips his phone until his knuckles turn white, because he thought all of that had been buried. Or at least that it was far enough in the past, and has been left unacknowledged for long enough, that people wouldn’t bring it up. He’s not ready to see it everywhere but there are replies to that tweet, people discussing events from years ago and digging into the past in a way that makes Phil want to throw his phone across the room in frustration.

He’s stupid to hope, he’ll never escape his past. Any attempts he makes to move on or fix anything, any steps he takes towards being ‘healthy’ or ‘well adjusted’ will be met with the constant chase of everything that went before, over and over again. 

This is the moment Phil decides that he’s had enough. He leaves his phone on the table, locked and face down, doesn't even take it to plug it in and charge it. 

He goes to his bedroom, doesn’t both to change, simply steps out of his jeans and pulls the duvet up around his chin, face buried in his pillow. He closes his eyes and wills it all to go away, tries to calm the racing pace of his heartbeat with breaths into the heated fabric of his sheets. He squeezes his eyes shut, and stay that way, trying to forget.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 2 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

**AmazingPhil:** Off home for a bit to get my mum to cook for me. Bye London!

It isn’t his proudest moment. He knows he’s essentially running away from his problems, but when he wakes up the next day, the swirling knotted feeling once again in his stomach, the only way he can get it to settle is to book train tickets home. The call of the cosy familiarity of his childhood home is so alluring, a tiny hidey-hole he can burrow in for a bit. 

He texts his mum to let her know he’s coming, she wouldn’t say no, she never does, but he can tell by the reply he gets that she’s surprised by the out-of-the-blue plan.

Dan calls when he’s getting off the train. It’s around his usual getting-up time about now, Phil having woken up early again thanks to the rushing thoughts in his head. He looks down at his phone because the ringtone interrupts the music coming from his headphones but he lets it go to voicemail, breathing out finally when the song kicks back in. 

He’s finally stood in his parent’s kitchen, his mum at the kettle making him a drink, when he gets a text message.

**Dan:** didn’t know you were going up north. do you have time to catch up about the video later?

Phil doesn’t even blink at Dan knowing ‘home’ means ‘up north’ because he’s so used to people knowing about his life these days, it shouldn’t surprise him that Dan Howell knows where he’s from too. Still, he doesn’t reply, simply turns his phone upside down on the table. 

“You avoiding someone, Phil?” 

He mum is only looking at him in her periphery, but has the uncanny ability of a parent to see him anyway. She’s stirring the coffee diligently not making eye contact. 

“No.” His voice comes out sullen, defensive, like he’s slipped back into the role of petulant teenager. 

She sets the steaming cup down in front of him and slides into the chair opposite him, folding her hands in her lap and crossing one leg over the other. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He’s not being surly, he’s trying not to anyway. “No, thank you.” 

“Alright,” she says, nodding but looking a little disapproving. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this impromptu visit then, if you’re not hiding.” 

“I… things are just stressful.” 

“Work busy?” 

“Sort of. I have a new project I’m working on. For YouTube.” 

“Something you’ve come up with?” 

“Um... " He lifts the cup to his mouth to take a sip but it’s still too hot. Instead he just holds it, letting the porcelain burn the skin on his palms slightly. “Something Google came up with actually. A kind of community thing.” 

His mum isn’t stupid, while she might not understand the ins and outs of YouTube or Google or any of that, she does understand Phil. Better than he thinks she does probably. 

“Does this project involve working with other people?” 

“One person.” 

“Would this person be the one texting you right now?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Philip,” she raises her own cup to her lips and takes a delicate sip of hot liquid. 

“Don’t full name me mum, you know it isn’t easy for me.” 

“I know,” she nods, reaching across the table to put her hand on top of Phil’s, patting at him affectionately. “And I will be the first person to say that you should be careful, I don’t want… well, you’ve had some horrible things happen and the last thing I want is for you to undo all the hard work you’ve done getting to the place you are now.” 

Phil doesn’t feel like he’s worked hard at all. He’s still broken isn’t he? Still incapable of even the simplest interactions. Sure, he hasn’t stopped working, not like he’d thought that he might have to a few years ago. He still maintains a few friendships, the ones he managed to salvage after he cut everyone out for a while, scared that they would be… the same.

“But there’s careful and then there’s avoidance,” his mum continues, “you can’t avoid the world for forever Phil, I don’t want you to. You’re going to have to step outside at some point, stop hiding away.” 

Phil shrugs. He really has hit an all-time low in the acting-like-a-child stakes. 

“This project could be good for you.” 

“People keep saying that.” 

“Well, sounds like someone is talking sense to you then,” she retracts her hand and sits up a little straighter. “I don’t always understand what is going on in your head Phil, I won’t pretend that I do. But it does worry me that you let that horrible boy make you think everyone else is going to be the same way.” 

“It’s not all him…" Phil says, it still feels uncomfortable to discuss it because it’s not something he does regularly, but at least his mum knows the finer details so he doesn’t have to fill in the gaps of the story from those gathered on the internet. Doesn't have to argue which side of the tale people should believe, his or Charlie’s. His mum is on his side by default. “I had these issues before him.”

“But you let him in,” his mum says, nodding because they’ve spoken about this before. “And he took advantage of that. But Phil… not everyone will do that. Pick someone, anyone, let them in. Prove to yourself that the world isn’t as bad as you think it is.” 

“How do I do that? How do I trust someone when they’ve given me no reason to?” 

“It’s always a leap of faith, but everything in life is.” 

“I can’t tell, sometimes, what is a legitimate thing to be cautious about… and what is something that my brain is telling me is, but actually isn’t.” Phil admits, sipping his coffee and finding it has cooled down enough to drink. 

“Do you want to tell me a little bit about it? Maybe I can help you figure it out.” 

Phil shakes his head automatically but then lets his mouth quirk into a thoughtful pout. “The person I’m working with on this project... they’re very open about everything on social media. They tweet about everything all the time. It, um, it worries me that they only want to work with me… only want to be friends with me because of… that.” 

“So this is about Charlie.” 

“Not exactly,” Phil insists, “Just… a bit. I can’t go through something like that again. But it’s the nature of my line of work, isn’t it? A little deception.” 

“I don’t know much about the work side of things but you could maybe just talk to this person.”

“Dan,” Phil fills in, “his name is Dan.” 

His mum’s eyebrows shoot up a little bit but there is also the ghost of a smile on her mouth. 

“Talk to Dan, then. Make it clear that the parameters of the project don’t include any of that… and if he doesn’t like it you can stop working together.” 

“What about the parameters of friendship?” 

She doesn't really speak at this, but her mouth does part slightly and she fiddles with the handle on her mug. 

“I think I want to be friends with him,” Phil continues, because he knows that is something new from him. 

“That’s really good,” she enthuses, her voice low and serious and compressed as if she doesn't want to make him skittish. 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You are a bit.” 

“Okay… it’s just that you haven’t really expressed a desire to make friends or anything in awhile. It’s good.” 

"I know but Dan is... " he doesn't know how to describe Dan, or why he feels so compelled to make their friendship a real thing. “Different.” 

“Okay. And it’s just… friends?” 

“You’re worse than the internet,” Phil says, groaning and rubbing a hand on his face. 

“Sorry, sorry… a mother likes to check these things. Is he attractive though?” 

“Mum!” 

“Okay. Sorry, I’ll stop.” 

They sip their drinks in companionable silence for a moment before Phil realises he hasn’t really gotten to the bottom of anything, it’s all just still hanging there. 

“So if I want to be friends… how do I do that?”

“Well not ignoring his text messages might be a start,” His mum says, gesturing to his cup as if to ask if he’s finished. 

He nods and she scoops the cup up from in front of him and makes her way to the sink to rinse them. Once her back is turned Phil picks up his phone and reads the text message again. He does have time to discuss the video, that would be a good start anyway, pulling his weight with the work they are doing rather than leaving Dan to it. They don’t have masses of time before it’s due, but Phil isn’t ready to go home yet, he’s still feeling awkward and nervous about everything. 

“I think I’m going to go and… sort this out.” Phil says to his mum, getting up from his seat and going to stand next to her. “Thanks for your help.” 

She leans over and offers her cheek for him to kiss since she has wet and soapy hands. He presses a fleeting kiss to her cheek before leaving her and retreating to his room. 

It isn’t as simple as he’s making out to his mum of course, he can’t just talk to Dan about things and set parameters and demand anything of him. It’s a delicately balanced situation, and Phil still isn’t really sure, despite what he’s told his mum, whether he wants to indulge in the whole friendship thing. He just wants it to be simple, wants the constant litany of worry and doubt stop going in circle in his head. But that’s just how he’s wired, it’ll never be as simple as it wants it to be. 

Phil reaches his room and lays down on his bed, long legs stretched out in front of him, propping his phone up on his chest and reading Dan’s text message once again. The thought that he isn’t pulling his weight on the project is his main problem at the moment, one he’s dealt with that he’ll deal with tackling the conversation about putting a stop to the showboating. 

**Phil:** Sorry for the late reply. I’m free now if you want to talk about the video.

Dan texts back way too quickly, which tells Phil he was either sat around waiting for it, or he simply had his phone in his hand already. Probably the latter, he was most likely on Twitter, that’s where he always seems to be these days. 

**Dan:** cool did you want to skype or something would probably make it easier

Phil takes a steadying breath and slides from the bed to pick up his laptop. He chooses to sit at the desk because sitting on his bed seems too intimate. He texts Dan his Skype address and waits for the call to come through. He has to sit on his hands to stop from fidgeting, pressing them beneath his thighs and trying not to jiggle his knee in lieu of them. 

He only jumps slightly when the ringtone startles him, pulling on his hand, too uncoordinated to move his leg to make it easier, before jabbing at the track pad to answer the call. 

Dan’s face expands to fill his screen and he’s in a plain black tshirt and his hair is a slight mess, a little less put together than usual, and he appears to be laying on grey and black sheets that Phil recognises at the ones from the background of his videos. He looks way more relaxed than Phil feels, a smile growing on his face when the call connects and Phil must appear on his screen. 

“Hi,” he says, and Phil is treated to a personal iteration of his two fingered salute. “Oh god, I can’t believe I just did that.” 

“Hey,” Phil says, throwing his palm up to the camera in his signature wave too. “There, I did it too.” 

“I should be used to talking to a camera,” Dan says, pulling a face like he’s embarrassed, “but I don’t usually have someone talking back.”   
“It is a little weird,” Phil agrees, “I’m worrying about framing and lighting right now.”

It’s easy to joke around with Dan, especially when he’s grinning in encouragement, it pools something warm in Phil’s belly and he finds he doesn’t need to force the smile he gives to Dan in return.

“You look great,” Dan says, “I mean.. The lighting and stuff. It’s fine. Very clear.” 

“Okay,” Phil says and there’s a moment of silence at the look at each other across the slightly fuzzy internet connection. Phil clears his throat, “Um, we should probably talk about the er… video.” 

“Oh yeah,” Dan nods, rearranging himself to sit up a little more, “that’s what I called for wasn’t it? I have some ideas but I’m interested in what you’ve come up with.”

Phil must look like a deer in headlights, he knows his eyes get too wide and it’s unnerving so he makes a conscious effort to blink and move his eyes from the screen a little bit. He daren’t glance into the small box showing his own picture because he doesn’t want to know what he looks like. Instead he looks at Dan, and the fan of his dark lashes on his cheeks as he closes his eyes and chuckles at Phil. 

“You look scared,” he says, “we don’t have to have it all figured out, we’re just spitballing ideas right now.” 

“It has to promote the community…" Phil points out, “I-I’m not great at that...kind of stuff. I’m sort of the poster boy for not interacting with people. I don’t know if you heard.”

Dan’s face suddenly lights up and Phil can see his take hold of his laptop, pulling it ever so slightly closer to his face so that the brown of his eyes is evident on Phil’s screen. He holds his breath. 

“What if we did it about that.”

“What?”

“I mean if we kind of made a joke about how you’re anti social or whatever. About people who are otherwise socially awkward but find friends online. The YouTube community bringing them together. Sort of a tongue in cheek nod to your stupid reputation.” 

Dan is enthusing about the idea, his hands moving in time with his words, which is something Phil does too so he recognises the signs of a creative spark making it’s way into a flame.

“I don’t know…" Dan is clearly happy about the idea but Phil doesn't know if he wants to bring any more attention to his personal failings. 

“I don’t mean… well, it’s not like you’re really like that.”  
Phil cocks his head, because Dan can’t mean that. Of course he is, he’s just as bad as they say and worse. 

“You seem fine to me.” Dan continues, “Pleasant even. I… I mean, I… we’re getting to be kind of friends aren’t we? You can’t be that antisocial if you made friends with me. I never leave the house and am notorious for being ‘standoffish’ so if you can make a friend of me you can’t be all that bad.” 

Phil tries not to let that make his so happy but it wiggles into his brain and squirms in his abdomen, twisting into something light and pleasing.

“How would we do it?” he hears himself asking.

Dan’s eyes light up and he leans forward slightly, his old t-shirt sagging at the collar and Phil can see the sharp relief of his collarbone, is mesmerised by it eve and Dan starts talking at a wicked pace about his idea.

“Ohh ohh what if we use the two locations to our advantage? We could do like a sketch about me and you and like watching each other’s videos and then finally meeting.. It’s perfect. Like, playing off the whole online joke about us never meeting and… it all ties it together with the whole thing Google are going for.” 

That should throw Phil in to panic, but Dan’s face is alive with energy and the magic of creative output and Phil can feel it seeping over into him, filling him up with just enough bravado that he can go along with it.

“We could do some bits that were like Skype calls…"

Phil is getting swept along with it, finding it is easy to fall into step beside Dan’s crazy plans, to be caught in the whirlpool of everything. He hasn’t felt this way about something creative in a while, it’s like when he comes up with his own video plans but doubled, magnified back to him by the flecks of gold in Dan’s eyes.

“Yeah! Yeah! And then we could even work on it now, you film your bits while you’re there, and I’ll film mine here and then we’ll just meet up when you’re back… I mean… if you have time while you’re there you’re not there for something horrible are you?”

Dan looks genuinely worried, like he might have offended Phil.

“No,” Phil laughs, “I just like to see my family often. I have this weird fear that if I don't’ see them frequently that I’ll turn up one day and they’ll look old and be changed and I won’t have noticed…" he trails off, “Oh god. I sound like an insane person.” 

“That’s so precious,” Dan says instead of the criticism Phil thinks is coming. 

They talk for a while longer, racking up almost another hour of mindless chatter and Phil forgets to feel anxious even once. It’s easy talking with Dan, swapping stories, batting banter back and forth between them like it’s an old habit. It’s comfortable, simple, and easy to lose himself in so that he isn’t thinking about how Dan has a separate agenda. 

They could be friends, Phil thinks, Dan had said they were. But he can’t put it aside entirely that Dan is getting something out of this. It’s not as simple as them just enjoying each other’s company. Phil can’t trust that it is, it’s there nagging in the back of his head even while he’s chatting so naturally with him.

“So did you want to go and write something and come back and compare notes tomorrow maybe?” Phil is saying, noticing by the clock that they’ve been chatting for nearly 3 hours and it’s later in the day than he’d thought and his mum will be calling him for dinner any time now. 

“Sounds good.” Dan says before pausing for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as if contemplating whether to say something or not. "...It was good talking to you, Phil.” 

“Yeah…" Phil replies, “It was.”

And it was. Phil has a tiny thrill from the brewing ideas he has forming in his head about the video and way he and Dan seem to connect is almost convincing him it might be possible for them to be friends after all. He just needs to decide whether he’s happy to go along with everything for the sake of it. Is Dan’s friendship worth the potential fallout online?

They say goodbye and Phil ventures to the kitchen to sniff out whether his mum is in fact making dinner. His head is full of ideas and his heart is full of something else he hasn’t felt in a while. It’s something that spins like a cyclone, scary and in a rush, but perfectly formed and perfect in it’s intent to destroy him.

After dinner Phil notices Dan’s tweet. He isn’t surprised this time like he has been in the past, but he still feels that something in his chest drop slightly, like dragged down by disappointment. He needs to stop hoping things will be different. 

**danisnotonfire:** 3 hours skype calls are the best

He hasn’t tagged Phil, but it doesn’t stop the fans from speculating like they always do. 

**ellethephangirl:** funny how Phil is home for a bit and now Dan is skyping someone

**beautyandthepizza:** Dan please tell me you were skyping @AmazingPhil

There are loads more in the same vain. Sometimes he’s tagged, sometimes he isn’t but they all mention him in one way or another. It’s well orchestrated, Phil has to admit, Dan’s social media game is strong. 

Would it be the worst thing, if he just went along with it a little bit? If he just gave in to the insistent press of longing trapped in his lungs.

He presses his finger down on the screen of his phone, giving in to it for a just a second. He likes Dan’s tweet, the little heart filling in red in evidence of it. It won’t go unnoticed, but he doesn’t need to say anything else. It will get the message across. 

What message, he isn’t exactly sure, but it’s a step in the direction of something he didn’t know he was capable of. He just has to decide how far he’s willing to take it, and try to push down that creeping sense of dread he can already feel clawing its way up his spine.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 27 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> I am in absolutely shock. I’m so glad you’re all enjoying this as much as I am. Your comments and asks and tweets have been making me smile all day. Thank you.
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

Phil’s experimentation of ‘going with it’ seemingly extends to spending increasingly longer amounts of time on Skype with Dan every evening. He’s decided to stay at his parents’ house over the weekend and travel back next Monday to meet with Dan to film the final scenes of their video. He’s really trying not to think that far ahead, because he has enough to be doing here. 

They finalised the video content, their scripts ending up very similar upon first glance. Dan’s is more satirical, clever, sarcastic. Phil loves the subtle nods to Phil’s reputation as someone who doesn’t interact with the community well, it undermines the assumptions in a way that probably isn’t true, but will get people thinking. Phil’s own script depicts Dan’s character as much softer than he is, completely goes against his ‘soulless’ branding.

“Is it too far outside what you’re going for?” Phil asks nervously, fiddling with the printed piece of paper just outside of the camera’s view. 

“No,” Dan laughs, “It’s great, I’ve just never had a counterbalance to it before, someone to make me appear lighter by association.”

“I suppose it’s a winning combination for us both then,” Phil observes. 

“Yeah,” Dan replies, but he sounds a little sad about it. 

In the end they compromise with very little resistance on either end and Phil thinks that if collaborating was always like this he’d wonder why he’d shied away from it for so long. Until he remembers all the things that make it a bad idea. It’s funny how Dan keeps making him forget. Reminding himself of his own issues isn’t something he likes to do often but he’s finding it necessary so that he is vigilantly cautious, because he’s becoming impulsive in his interactions with Dan, careless and rash. 

It’s weird filming in his old bedroom, but it’s perfect for the nostalgic feel of their video, a young Phil and an older camera making videos in his spare time, and a young Dan watching them. They even capture a few scenes over their actual Skype connection to give it some authenticity and Phil begins spiralling into a fantasy of what it would have been like if this was actually how it had gone. If Phil’s videos really had inspired Dan to start his own channel, if they really had connected in the early days before it all went wrong, if they’d become friends back then. Would his life be different now? 

Of course, in the video they’re not playing Dan and Phil, they’re playing two characters they’ve created, two innocent and young boys with few cares. It just makes Phil’s chest ache at the possibility of it all, burned out prospects of how things could have been, when he knows things were very different for him in reality. He latched on to the wrong person and without the promise of something better, clung to it until it was too late. The damage was done. 

“You’re quiet,” Dan says, and Phil has to remember that he’s actually on a call with Dan at the moment, though neither of them have actually said anything in awhile. 

They’ve done this recently, called each other every night but lapsed into comfortable silence once talking about the video is done. They both run out of things to say but seem reluctant to hang up. Phil doesn’t want to end the connection, likes hearing the soft sound of Dan’s breathing, or his breathy chuckle at something on his Tumblr feed. They send links back and forth, finding they have a similar sense of humour. They make plans Phil knows will never come to pass. In short, it’s almost like they’re friends, and Phil is getting too used to it. 

It takes him a moment to realise that in this particular call they haven’t actually talked about the video at all, have simply been chatting idly and then fallen into companionable quiet. A quick glance at the timer confirms they’ve been doing it for an hour.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about the video.” 

“Oh… yeah.” Dan says, as if only just remembering it is a thing that exists. “Did you finish filming your bit?” 

“Yeah, and I got your clips. They look good, I already have some idea about how to cut them together.” 

“Great,” Dan smiles, “would you… um, show me maybe? The editing thing has always been a bit of a minefield for me. I have lots of grand ideas but very little skill in executing it.” 

"Er, yeah, sure,” Phil shrugs, because he’d just kind of assumed he’d be the one to edit it but of course Dan would want to get involved. “I can give you some tips.”

And of course this means Dan gets yet something more out of the association, Phil reminds himself, some editing tips to make his own channel better. But Phil is getting this, he supposes, these moments of quiet where he can convince himself he has an actual friend that he has things in common with, so maybe it’s a fair trade. 

“Editing tips sounds like a euphemism,” Dan says, eyebrows waggling and tongue poking out. 

Phil frowns, but can’t stop himself from laughing a little bit, his hand going over his mouth. “Dan! You can’t say things like that.” 

“Oh come on,” Dan insists, picking up his laptop from where it’s on his desk and moving over to his bed. The movement of the camera makes Phil a little dizzy but the image of Dan lounging with the laptop propped on his stomach, his face closer to the camera now, makes him feel better instantly. Which is ridiculous. “You really can't be as innocent as you make yourself out to be. In fact, I know you’re not.” 

“Oh do you?” Phil asks, crooking an eyebrow in challenge

“I’ve seen the old videos remember, Phil trash since two thousand and seven, I remember the ones you’ve unlisted.”

Phil swallows, the smile fading from his mouth instantly. “Yeah…" he says, “you’ve seen everything.” 

“What?” Dan asks, “What’s up? "

“Nothing,” Phil assures him, “nothing, I’m fine.” 

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” 

Dan sighs, “you drop your guard for a minute but then shut down again.”

Phil doesn’t reply, but he does look to the left of the camera so he doesn’t have to meet Dan’s eyes through the screen. 

“Sometimes you’re...a bit more real. It’s like I’m getting a version of you no one else does… I like it.”

Dan’s voice is small and honest and Phil knows if he looks back Dan will be covering his fists with his hoodie sleeves, or tugging on the front of it, or burrowing his face into the collar of it. He can't look at that right now. And he definitely doesn’t want to analyse why he has these gestures of Dan’s so memorised already, because they aren’t danisnotonfire things, they’re Dan things, so Phil knows what Dan means when he says he’s getting access to something no one else is. Phil just doesn't know how to give that consciously and without admonishing himself for it afterwards like a reflex. 

“I’m not trying to be two-faced,” he settles on instead, “it’s just… easier to show the internet something I’ve chosen to. So that I have control over something at least, how much I share. That hasn’t always been the case.” 

“I don’t think you need to have as much control as you do,” Dan murmurs, his voice full of something that Phil recognises as longing but assumes he’s mistaken about. “Your actual personality is pretty great.”

Phil feels himself blush and he risks looking back at the screen. Dan is looking at him intently, Phil doesn't know how he’s doing it, looking at him that closely and still saying the nice things. Possibly he’s gotten so good at hiding his damage that Dan doesn’t see it at all. Phil feels like he could set ablaze under his scrutiny.

“But yeah I know what you mean,” Dan continues, “I do it too. Doesn’t everyone? Not just on the internet, but we all try to present the best version of ourselves to people, to keep all the bad stuff hidden.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Phil says darkly, “If you have particularly bad stuff to keep hidden.” 

“I wouldn’t mind the bad stuff, Phil.” Dan says, mostly into his own hands, “If you wanted to share it.” 

Phil shakes his head, because he can’t. It’s too late, the version of him that matters is already out there, shaped by his mistakes. He can’t do a thing about changing it now, the most he can do is suppress it all, keep himself contained to his persona and nothing further. It’s easier. That way whatever anyone says about him isn’t really about _him_. Is it?

Phil is jolted from the conversation by a knock on his bedroom door and his mum poking her head around it. 

“Oh, sorry love,” she says, catching sight of Dan on the laptop, “Didn’t mean to interrupt, just wondered if you wanted a sandwich making since I’m doing one.” 

“Er… yeah… thanks mum.” 

She lingers for a moment, in the doorway half in and out of his room. She’s got her head cocked like she’s expecting something but it takes a moment before Phil realises what it is. 

“Oh,” he looks back at the camera and he can see Dan has sat up a little straighter and is currently running a hand through his unruly hair, trying to flatten it down. Phil shoots him a little laugh. “This is Dan,” he says to his mum. “Dan, this is my mum, Kathryn.” 

“Hi Mrs Lester,” Dan says anyway, despite Phil introducing her by her first name. Phil pulls a face his mum can’t see where he lets his eyes go wide and puffs air into his cheeks before smiling widely, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. 

“Hello Dan,” she says, moving further into his room so that he sees her appear over his shoulder in the viewfinder, “I’ve heard alot about you.” 

“Oh, all good I hope,” Dan jokes, his voice sounding a little posher than normal, like he’s putting on some form of airs and graces. Phil is being treated to Dan Howell on his best behaviour, it is extraordinary.

“Of course,” she says fondly. “Anyway, I’ll go and get on with lunch,” she pat’s Phil’s hair and he grumbles like a child, he watches Dan’s face twist with the effort of not laughing at him out of the corner of his eye. 

Once she’s gone Dan begins laughing really loudly. “Oh my god.” 

“You’re such a suck up,” Phil says “hi ‘Mrs Lester’ and you got all posh!” 

“Did not,” Dan protests, “ugh, you’re the worst.” 

“Your mum’s the worst,” Phil jokes.

“God, I can’t even make your mum jokes anymore, cus I’ve met her and she was lovely.” 

“Still fair game for me,” Phil gloats, “I can say what I want.” 

“Just you wait til you meet my mum, then you won’t be able to either. And I bet you get really posh and well behaved as well.” 

Phil laughs but can’t help the voice going a million miles an hour in his head screaming that Dan has implied Phil will meet his mum one day. Like that’s a normal thing that happens. 

“This is what I mean,” Dan says suddenly, “you’re perfectly fine but then you go somewhere.” 

“I don’t go anywhere,” Phil shrugs, “I just think about things.” 

“You could... Share those things with the group maybe?” 

Phil shakes his head.

“Okay…" Dan says, his voice a little louder, like he has a plan. “Okay… just… can we try something? Maybe we can just drop the whole pretending thing. Just with each other. Maybe we could actually be friends, with our actual personalities and everything.”

It punches Phil in the gut, because that’s what he’s been wanting to hear, but he still can’t trust it. He wants to, he really wants to trust Dan and the fragile thing they’re building. He wants to believe that Dan is on the other end of this Skype call wishing they were friends, and not just twisting and fabricating his words into what Phil wants to hear so that he can take advantage when Phil falls for it.

“I’ll… I can...try,” he stammers, genuinely meaning he’ll give it a good go but without much hope that he’ll be able to manage it. “It doesn’t really come naturally to me to put myself out there like that.” 

That, at least, is true. 

Dan ducks his head and looks up at him through dark lashes and Phil has to hold his breath to stop it getting caught in his throat. 

“Would it help if I shared something I don’t usually?”

Why is Dan doing this? What possible motivation can he have for trying to draw Phil in like this? Why is his voice so soft and delicate like it is, why does it make Phil’s stomach clench and palms get sweaty?

“Only if you want to.” Phil says, his own voice a whisper he isn’t sure Dan can even hear. “I don’t… It won’t be some sort of trade-off. I won’t share anything with you just because you do. So you shouldn’t say anything just because you expect me to.” 

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” Dan says, his face looking determined. “But I feel like I want to… I’ve been thinking about it over the past day or so and… yeah, I think I need to.” 

“Okay,” Phil agrees, “you can tell me anything.” 

“I’m trusting you with it,” Dan reminds him, “As a first step towards being friends without any fakery bullshit.” 

Phil nods to show he understands, because he’s agreed to try and do the same thing. When he figures out how that’s done without turning himself into a blubbering and anxious mess.

He watches as Dan sucks in a breath, holds it for a second, his face a picture of determination. He can see the moment Dan decides and opens his mouth to start talking. It isn’t anything Phil thought it would be.

“I’m gay.”

Suddenly Phil is in a completely different Skype call. He’s back being twenty-one and saying the same thing over a crappy connection and his voice cracks and his face feels hot. The dark haired boy on the other end, framed on the thick screen of Phil’s old laptop, sneers a smile onto his face and laughs loudly. “Fucking hell Phil, no need to be so serious.” 

Phil is young and insecure yet oh so trusting and he feels like the moment is ruined, kicked aside. But maybe he isn’t supposed to make such a big deal out of it after all, but it’s the first time he’s said it out loud and he’d thought that was supposed to mean something. He’s supposed to feel free, isn’t he, not worse than he did before.

“I…" Phil starts, because he desperately doesn’t want it to be like that for Dan. This won’t be the first time he’ll have said it, it can’t be, he wouldn’t trust Phil with that of all people, but he can’t let it become something Phil doesn't take seriously. He needs to give it all the attention it deserves, because it’s a huge leap of trust and Phil feels the pressure of what that means. Dan isn’t out, despite the constant pressure to be online, and yet he’s trusting Phil with this information like it’s nothing. Phil has the power to destroy him the same way he had been, but it isn’t even something he entertains. But the parallels are making him dizzy.

“I…" he tries again, swallowing thickly, his tongue suddenly feeling too big for his mouth. “Thank you. For telling me.” 

Should he return the sentiment? Does he need to? Surely Dan already knows, is there a person in the YouTube community who doesn’t know about what happened anyway? At least the Charlie-version of events. 

“I just… it felt like lying.” Dan says, “And I don’t want to… lie to you.”

Phil nods again, his mouth still feeling too stiff to say anything else. 

“I’m not… I don’t really like putting that out there online. It’s one of the things I keep to myself but… I thought you might… understand.” 

“I do.” 

“Okay,” Dan says with a finality. “That’s that then.” 

“Okay.”

\--

When Phil’s mum calls him it gives him ample excuse to end the call and slink away to think about everything that has happened, his mum on the other hand, doesn't offer such an excuse. 

“Dan seems nice,” She says as he reaches for the plate, not letting it go until he answers. 

“Hm.” Being at home is doing nothing for his ability to act like a man in his mid twenties, rather than a pouty teenager. 

“It’s good to see you’ve made a friend.” 

“I’m not a kid on my first day at school,” he groans, resting the plate from her grip but sitting at the table rather than running away. 

“I know, but you know what I mean,” she insists, “It hasn’t been easy.” 

“I’ve been fine.” 

“I mean it hasn’t been easy for us,” she clarifies, “I’m not trying to load on any guilt, and it certainly isn’t your responsibility to ensure your parents are feeling any type of way. But your father and I do worry about you all alone down there in London.” 

“I’m not completely alone, I have PJ and everyone.” 

She knows there isn’t an ‘everyone’ but she doesn't call him on it. 

“But you haven’t spoken to him once since being here,” she notes, “Correct me if I’m wrong but you’ve been speaking to Dan most nights.” 

He nods, taking a bite of his sandwich. “We’re working on a project,” he says after swallowing.

“Is that all?” 

He takes another bite of his sandwich and studies the crumbs that fall to his plate. 

“I’m not sure.” 

She doesn’t press, just waits for him to work through it in his head before continuing. 

“He says he wants to be friends, to drop all of the fake stuff that goes along with… you know, our jobs.” 

“And you don’t want to do that?” 

“No,” Phil clarifies, swiping at the crumbs to brush them to the floor and leave the table top clear. “I do.” 

“So what’s the problem? You look like there’s a problem.” 

“How am I ever going to trust that?” 

“Oh Phil…" she comes up behind him and slides her arms around his shoulders, hugging him with a ferocity only a mother could manage. “It’s a leap of faith, I told you.” 

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do it.” 

“The best you can do is give it a good go.” 

Phil finishes his sandwich in relative quiet before going back to his room to keep thinking. Dan has tweeted of course, something obscure about friendship and Skype calls, he doesn't tag Phil, but Phil likes it anyway, without much nervousness this time he’s glad to find. Possibly because he has much bigger things on his mind. 

It’s time, he thinks, to start at least trying to face up to some of the stuff that he’s keeping pushed down, because up to now it’s never been a problem. Now it is one, because it’s holding him back from trusting Dan when he says he wants to be friends, and he desperately wants to trust him, because he thinks that it might be true. He resolves to wake up tomorrow and start again, put away the AmazingPhil facade, at least when he’s with Dan. He resolves to give it a good go.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 28 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by two cups of coffee and a 15 minute nap in the middle. I’m so tired guys, massive project at work, trying to get the house sorted for when squidge moves and I’m not really sleeping well.   
> But I didn’t want to disappoint you, or myself, by falling at the final hurdle of fedij. Only a few days to go and I really love this fic so I wanted to write something. I’m sorry if it isn’t up to it’s usually standard but I covered all the plot points I needed to. 
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

Phil cannot tell the future. He knows this, because logically it isn’t something that anyone can do, but it doesn’t stop him from going over and over things, visualising every single possible scenario. Good and bad. 

The problem, mostly, is that Phil has very little experience with a full range of human interaction and so his markers for judging situations always tend to fall on the doom and gloom end of the spectrum. He’s constantly worrying, building up wild and unrealistic outcomes in his head for how any given event will go. The morning he has to meet Dan to film the last bit of their video is no exception. 

He’s in a train station, which is busy enough as it is, and it means filming in public which is always a nightmare. But he has a heavy bag of equipment and a tripod that makes him look vaguely official so he’s hoping people will keep a wide berth. They’ll probably have to deal with a few passers-by pulling faces in the background of shots, hoping for their 15 minutes of fame, but they’ll be able to get it done. 

It’s a bit cold, the wind blowing down the tracks in a straight and frosty line and Phil is clutching his jacket further around him. It’s not his usual jacket, but the one they’ve discussed using for his character. It’s cool though, all shiny and covered in galaxy print. He’d bought it on a whim but never actually gotten up the guts to wear it or show it to anyone. He’d only mentioned it to Dan in passing but he’d clung on to the idea for some reason, insisting Phil would look like a ‘cool nerdy guy who likes space’ which is a little on-the-nose for the character they’re building but sometimes Dan gets passionate about things and Phil just lets him go with it. 

He’s imagining Dan showing up and seeing him in person again and wondering if their rapport will be the same. He’s imagining the possibility of it being him that doesn’t match up, too stunned and anxious from seeing Dan in the flesh, being that close to his deep brown eyes, that he trips over his words. Or else, if he does manage to get it together, it’s Dan that turns up and is different, more distant and perfunctory in his words, the tentative friendship they’ve built dissolving like sugar in a murky puddle. 

He’s stuck on all of these possibilities so much that he doesn't notice when Dan sidles up next to him and bumps his shoulder. 

“Hey,” he says. 

Phil looks up automatically, his breathing stuttered and interrupted by the sight of Dan next to him. He’s effortlessly cool in his leather jacket, cropped sleeve that must means he’s cold but he’s not showing it. 

“Hi,” Phil says, jumping up from where he’s perched on a bench and hearing his voice all high-pitched and startled. 

“I was right, the coat is perfect,” Dan says appreciatively, dragging his eyes up and down Phil’s torso.

“Yeah you… look good too.” he finishes lamely, this isn’t a scenario he’d imagined. Phil with the ability to talk, albeit not as smoothly as he’d like, and Dan still treating him like they’re friends. Phil really has no concept of social conventions because he hadn’t thought this was possible. 

“Shall we?” Dan says, dropping his own bag from his shoulder and gesturing towards the tripod Phil has already set up. 

“Sure.” 

\--

When they get back from filing Phil is glad of the extra effort he put into tidying his flat before he left. It’s still a clutter of random nonsense and he holds his breath and Dan steps into the space. 

“Tea?” Phil asks, shuffling his feet awkwardly, because that is what people offer. 

“Coffee?” Dan shoots back, leaning over to peer into Phil’s bookshelf with a facial expression that is screaming curiosity. 

“Coming up.” Phil says, and makes his escape to the kitchen. 

It’s so odd, having Dan in his space. He should stick out, a maudelin figure in all-black hovering amongst his colourful things, but he doesn’t. When Phil gets back, carrying too mugs of coffee in non-matching mugs, Dan is smiling at the beaded pullstring on his window blinds. 

“Spiderman,” Dan states, taking the offered mug from Phil. 

“Yup,” Phil nods, but his face flushing, “I er… it’s all a bit…" 

“It’s cool,” Dan says. “Weird. Seeing it in real life rather than…" 

“Oh,” Phil says, because of course Dan has seen all of this in his videos so it isn’t a surprise. “Yeah…"

“I promise not to go full-stalker and ask to see your bedroom,” Dan winks, and if Phil’s face wasn’t red before it is now. “Though I must say I’m dying to see it.” 

Phil swallows and his face must look a picture of shock because Dan is laughing and placing a hand on his arm and patting at him lightly. 

“God your face… I meant because you film your videos there. So, like, it would be cool to see that too. I didn’t mean… you know. God, how forward do you think I am?” 

Phil hides his face in his coffee and pushes down a string of spluttering responses. 

“Shut up,” Phil manages eventually, risking a little shove to Dan’s arm, narrowly avoiding spilling his coffee. 

“Okay, okay.” Dan says, his laugh fading away but still ringing in the corner of Phil’s flat where he hopes it stays for a while. The whole place will probably sound a lot quieter once it’s gone, which isn’t something Phil is used to feeling sad about, but he is. “Don’t we have a video to edit?” 

“Yes,” Phil nods, “Come on, I’ll show you where the magic happens.”

“Thought we _weren’t_ going to your bedroom?” Dan asks, that dangerous and smirking expression on his face that tells Phil he’s challenging him to take up the innuendo.

AmazingPhil doesn't not do double entendre. He left that behind with the videos he’s unlisted, he keeps everything PG, doesn't let anyone read into anything he says but something about Dan in his living room, looking brand new yet not out of place, it making Phil feel the sense of recklessness he’s beginning to associate with Dan, the pull towards something a little darker, a little more fun than he normally allows himself. 

“Who says my bedroom is the only place the magic happens?” he fires back, and this time it’s Dan’s face that tints pink slightly. It’s a good look on him, one Phil wishes he could cause more often, but he isn’t sure he has it in him. 

“Phil Lester!” Dan says, his mouth open and eyes forced wide in feigned shock, “Was that an innuendo?” 

Phil doesn’t reply, simply smirks and leads the way to his office. 

They edit the video side by side, a chair dragged in from next to Phil’s small kitchen table so that Dan has somewhere to sit. Their shoulders pressed together in the small space and Phil can feel it every time he shifts to point at something on the screen. 

Phil can feel his heart beating faster because having someone in his house is strange but having them in his personal space is even stranger. Usually he feels stiff and awkward and like he wants to pull away, but he finds himself sinking into Dan’s warmth slightly, leaning back against him and praying Dan doesn't notice he’s taking the liberty. 

Dan’s vision for the video turns out to be similar to Phil’s, though Phil is the one with the technical expertise to execute it. He also suggests things Dan hadn’t thought of and he’s rewarded with a huge smile on Dan’s face and the rare appearance of dimples and make Phil’s stomach feel funny. 

This is the stuff he is good at, and he’s much more relaxed when he’s filming and editing and this stuff has never been a problem. But when Dan looks up once the video is finished, eyes bright and excited over the thing they have created, and Phil realises they’ve wasted the entire day doing just this and he hasn’t offered Dan food or anything. He’s not a good host. 

“God, look at the time!” Phil says. 

“Oh wow, we got a bit carried away didn’t we?” Dan glances at the corner of the computer screen and then reaches for his jacket on the back of the chair where he’d taken it off earlier. He shrugs it back on over his t-shirt and Phil feels a pang of something like disappointment in his chest. “I suppose I should get out of your house and leave you to your evening. Sorry I stayed so long.” 

“Stay for dinner,” Phil blurts out, without really meaning to. 

“What?” 

“I mean… I… should have fed you. At some point today. It’s my fault that it go so late so I’d really like to get you some dinner. I mean I’d cook but I don’t think I have much in because I was away all weekend, but I’m sure I could find something… or we could get pizza. Yeah, pizza, I’d like to buy you dinner if you want. Though you probably have plans, God I bet you do it’s not like you’d be sat around alone of an evening I bet you have all sorts of--” 

“Phil,” Dan says, cutting him off. “Pizza is good. Calm down, you’re talking really fast.” 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise… I just mean. ‘Fancy a pizza?’ would have done.” 

“Right,” Phil says, looking down at his lap, “I know. I… get a bit… like that. Occasionally.”

Dan sits back down in the chair, his jacket still on but it doesn't look like he’s leaving, Phil hasn’t scared him off entirely. 

“Any particular reason?” 

“I just…" Phil doesn't want to tell him everything, doesn't even know how he’d beginning to explain the thousands of different thoughts that go through his head on a daily basis. But he does want to offer him something, because Dan had told him… what he’d told him. And while Phil can’t exactly make himself that vulnerable, cant’ lay his darkest secret bare for Dan to scrutinise, he could at least give him a tiny glimpse into it, something to understand him better. “I sometimes feel like there’s a voice in my head telling me everything I’m saying it wrong. So I try to fix it. But… as you’ve seen that usually makes it worse.”

Dan is nodding like he understands, his hand hovers in mid air between them, as if stuck between a comforting gesture and wanting to keep his space. Phil waits for him to bolt, he wouldn’t really blame him. 

Dan’s hands finally lands on Phil’s shoulder and squeezes lightly, Phil closes his eyes and lets out the breath he’d been holding, feeling the tension unfurl all over like a crumple up paper finally being smoothed. 

“Must make editing videos one heck of a job,” Dan jokes, “No wonder you’re so good at it.” 

Phil has never been so thankful for someone cracking a joke. Dan delivers it with just the right amount of humour so that Phil knows he isn’t mocking him, is simply jostling him with humour to break the tension. 

“You have no idea,” Phil says, his voice still a little shaky with the dissipating dread, but it’s getting better. 

Dan tightens his hand briefing once more before dropping it. “You could… Maybe you could tell me?” He suggests, “When the voice in your head gets like that. I promise you tell you completely honestly if you really are being an idiot. Or if the voice in your head is just being a twat.” 

Phil lifts his head and meets Dan’s eye which are beautiful and earnest and looking at him with such sincerity that Phil has the urge to throw his arms around Dan and hug him. He can’t remember the last time he had the urge to do it, while he likes hugging, and he’s good at it, he usually waits until someone hugs him. 

“I could… try.” Phil says, sinking his fingers into his own jumping knee instead to steady them both. 

“Okay.” 

There is a small smile on both of their faces and a second of silence when Phil realises that he might actually have managed to become friends with Dan Howell without noticing. He’d spent so long worrying about how to do it that it’s just happened without him noticing. He might not yet feel comfortable sharing everything with him, that kind of trust is still far beyond his reach, but he isn’t as phased when the moment ends and Dan is reaching for his phone. 

“I’ll call for pizza, you find a movie to watch?” Dan suggests. 

Phil laughs, because the one time he thinks Dan is going to tweet, but is completely okay with it, he doesn’t. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Phil nods. “What are you in the mood for?” 

“Let’s watch whatever is your favourite,” Dan says cryptically, “the one movie you could watch any time day or night and never get sick of.” 

This is usually the type of thing that would throw Phil into panic. He’s be questioning what the movie he chose said about him, what Dan will think, how he can negate the reaction by picking something else, try to make himself cooler or more intellectual or worldly... but he isn’t. He knows exactly what he’s going to pick. 

\--

By the time the pizza arrives Phil has the dvd in the player, they’re settled on the couch with the food and glasses of ribena that apparently Dan also loves, and quite to Phil’s surprise they’re sharing a blanket across both of their laps. Dan had removed his jacket but dragged the green blanket from the back of the couch and thrown it across both of them quite casually, as if it’s a normal thing to do.

Phil is trying not to concentrate on the warm press of Dan’s thigh against his own but it’s proving difficult and he misses the play button on the remote on the first couple of tries until Dan calls him a spoon and takes it from his hand. Their fingers brush and Phil feels himself flinch but he doesn't think Dan notices. He really has to get better at allowing people into his personal space, because this is what friends do, or it’s what Dan does anyway.

The familiar opening sequence of Kill Bill begins to play they eat in easy silence, faces illuminated by the light of the screen. It’s late, and Phil is warm and full and he can feel himself slipping into a more reclined posture on the couch, his head pillowed against the back of his, eyes blinking at the image before him. He loses track of what’s happening about two thirds of the way in and becomes conscious of Dan also slipping further down the couch, his arm falling slackly to the side so that it rests on Phil’s rib cage. 

A quick glance to look at him reveals that Dan has fallen asleep, and Phil’s eyes feel grainy and sore like he could do the same. Dan looks peaceful with his eyes shut, younger, and Phil reminds himself that they do have a four year age gap that would probably account for it. 

The lack of space between them is unnerving and Phil wants to creep away to leave Dan to rest but he doesn’t want to risk waking him because he looks so comfortable. He stays staring at him for way longer than is strictly acceptable, until he feels that strange creeping sensation on his neck that tells him he’s doing something weird and needs to stop. 

He delicately shimmies his way out from all the places he’s touching Dan, letting his arm drop heavily to the couch, but Dan doesn’t stir. He turns off the TV, the movie only with a few minutes left anyway. It throws the room into complete darkness and Phil is aware of the silence and the sound of Dan’s breathing.

He wants to take off Dan’s shoes, to lay him down properly because his neck will ache if he stays like that, but he isn’t sure if that’s totally acceptable. Instead he tugs the blanket up so that it’s covering him a little better, and fetches an extra pillow and blanket so that if Dan wakes up in a few hours he’ll know he’s welcome to stay. 

Phil doesn't think he’s ever wanted someone to stay as much as he does Dan. He feels a warmth pooling in him at the idea that Dan is here tonight, and because of how lovely the day and evening have been. He takes one final glance at Dan, small and silent on his tiny couch, before leaving him to sleep.

Before he goes to sleep Phil gets out his phone and send a single tweet with no context, he doesn't tag Dan, doesn’t give any further explanation of what it means, but it’s how he feels, for the first time in a long time. 

**AmazingPhil:** ahappyphil


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 2 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> Tomorrow is the day squidge moves. I'm so excited…  
> It's also the last day of fedij. I'll honestly be sad to see it go. I've had the best time!
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

Phil doesn’t wake to a racing heart or a clawing scratch in his stomach, but he does wake to a silent flat. A quick glance at the clock on his phone tells him he slept in far longer than usual but also that Dan has liked his tweet from the night before. He lets his head sink back into his pillow for a moment, rethinking over the day before and then smiling at the memory. 

They have a check-in meeting for the video project at Google later today to see how everyone is getting along with their videos and Phil smiles knowing he’s going to see Dan later. He’s surprised by the way his stomach flips at the thought because, it’s just Dan, and he has no idea where that came from. It isn’t his usual jolt of anxiety, but something different, something Phil daren’t explore just now because he has a feeling it’s all going to get way more complicated than it already is and that in itself might be enough to destroy the good mood he finds himself in. 

He gets up from his bed, puts on his glasses and ignores the impossible quiff his hair has formed overnight. Leaving product in his hair while he sleeps will always be one of his more unforgivable habits but it does serve to provide some quite hilarious hairstyles when he wakes up. 

He exits his bedroom and pokes his head around the door of the lounge to find the couch empty and the blanket folded neatly on one cushion. There is no sign of Dan, but he didn’t really think there would be. It doesn’t actually kill his mood to find that he isn’t there, instead he’s riding on a bit of a high, singing to himself as he makes his way to the kitchen for coffee. He’s never this awake before caffeine, he has no idea what is going on. 

Pushing open the kitchen door while hitting a particularly energetic part of the song, Phil nearly topples to the ground.

“Ah! Bloody hell what the heck are you doing?” 

Dan is sitting at his kitchen table innocently scrolling through his phone and the kettle is already on in the corner of the countertop.

“Well I was making coffee,” Dan says, smiling widely, “But then I was enjoying a particularly nerdy rendition of the Pokemon theme tune. Do you always sing when you think you’re alone? That’s precious.” 

“Shut up,” Phil says, crossing the room to reach for a mug in the cupboard. “I meant what are you still doing here?” 

“Ah,” Dan says, putting his phone down, “Well, you see, I didn’t want to be the guy who spent the night and then bolted in the morning, you know? Didn’t want to just creep out to my walk of shame without saying thank you for letting me stay. Sorry I fell asleep.” 

The problem is Dan keeps saying things like this, hinting that he’d like to see Phil’s bedroom or implying that his stay last night was less than innocent. And Phil knows he’s just trying to rile him up, to make him drop the AmazingPhil facade and fall prey to his evil entendres but it makes something in Phil flutter wildly every time he does it, like he’s examining the possibility of it and finding he doesn't mind.

“I can leave, if you want?” Dan says when Phil doesn’t answer, because his brain is still going over the way Dan had insinuated he’d be doing a walk of shame this morning, and then running over the ways that phrase is usually applicable and then… at that point Phil is in freefall and the images in his head are not suitable for standing in the middle of his kitchen holding an empty mug while the kettle clicks off. 

“No,” Phil says finally, shaking his head and reaching for another mug, “I can’t send you off to your walk of shame without a coffee at least can I? Don’t want to be the guy who shoves you out the door without at least a little hospitality.” 

Joining in with the joke is easier, because then at least Phil is reaffirming to himself that it is all a joke, that there is nothing behind any of it except the companionable humour that goes along with two guys hanging out, and Dan’s insistence on teasing Phil at every turn. Well, Phil will show him that it will take a lot more than that to break him, thank you very much. 

When Phil finishes making the coffee he leans awkwardly against the counter, the other chair for his tiny table still in the office. 

“What time is Google?” Dan says, yawning and stretching his arms over his head so that his shirt rides up and Phil has to look down into his coffee so that he doesn’t stare. He’s just giving Dan his privacy, he tells himself, nothing else. 

“Um, Two?” 

“Ah. Not long then.” Dan says, “I should probably go shower and change.” 

Phil has the ridiculous urge to ask him to stay, to offer his shower and a clothes and god knows what else. It’s irrational, and he’d been perfectly fine thinking Dan was gone this morning but looking at him now he knows his kitchen, hell his entire flat, is going to feel so much more empty in his absence. 

“Hm,” Phil agrees in lieu of attempting any words, because he has no idea what would come out of his mouth if he did. 

“So I’ll just… meet you there?” Dan asks, “At Google?”

“Oh, yeah,” Phil nods, “I’ll just… meet you there.”

“I don’t think they’ll want to see the video but…" 

“I can transfer the file to my laptop, bring it with me.” 

“Okay,” Dan says, “You should probably also send me a copy. I’d like to have one. The unedited stuff too…"

“Yeah of course,” Phil agrees, “Yeah I’ll send it once you’ve gone.” 

“No rush.” 

It’s oddly formal, and Phil can’t be sure but he thinks Dan might be feeling how weird it is too, suddenly both stood in his tiny kitchen with barely any space between them really. If Phil reached out his fingers, which he would never do, he’d be able to touch Dan’s shoulder. 

"So I'll just…" Dan says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "Thanks for the coffee, sorry again for falling asleep." 

"No, no it was my pleasure," Phil insists, "Anytime you want to stay, really…" 

"Anytime?" And Dan is crooking an eyebrow, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips and Phil is acutely aware of the humour in the situation, but also in how sincere he'd been in his offer. 

Phil never offers his house to anyone, never wants people to come into his private bubble and invade it with their presence. But something about having Dan here makes him feel okay, like he doesn't mind it. He has to keep reminding himself that there is really very few reasons Dan would ever need to come over again let alone stay. The video project is done, the timer on this temporary friendship is winding down. Once it's posted, it'll probably all blow away with the wind, the fans satisfied, gossip dulled, there will be nothing in it for either of them anymore. 

"Anytime." Phil reaffirms, forcing himself not to drop Dan's gaze.

It's thrilling, to be this brave, to push past the limits of what he's usually comfortable with. Is this what his mum meant by a leap of faith, the thrumming energy in his extremities, the flipped-over inverted feeling of his internal organs, like everything is being rearranged around the sight of Dan sleep-rumpled and soft in the morning kitchen light. 

Is this what it feels like to be friends? It's nothing like Phil had thought it would be. 

They do an awkward little dance to decide who leaves the kitchen first, both side stepping into each other's way.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Dan reaches out and claps a hand on either of Phil's shoulders before stepping around him, chuckling all the while. "There." 

Phil follows him to the front door of his flat as if Dan can't find it on his own despite the place being so small you can basically see it from wherever you're standing. 

Phil reaches for the door handle and their fingers brush but he swallows down the rising panic because Dan isn't having these weird little freak outs so Phil really shouldn't be either. 

But the door is open and the wide expanse of the hallway is before them and Dan could step out into it at any moment. He's lingering though, half in and half out of Phil's flat and Phil wishes he would just get on with the business of leaving and let him get used to his flat without Dan again. 

He doesn't leave straight away, instead he leans forward, his face resolute as if deciding something finally and pulls Phil into a hug. Dan is warm and just a touch taller and Phil's head fits perfectly into the space between his chin and shoulder. His arms are firm and phil finds no problem is putting his own around Dan and squeezing back. They are connected at the torso only, both bending slightly towards each other but not drifting closer from the waist down. It's entirely platonic and wonderful so Phil doesn't know why his heart hammers in his chest and he longs for more, to press himself fully up against this warm and comforting containment of Dan's arms. 

It's over almost as soon as it starts, a brief sojourn into the realm of what is possible and Phil immediately doesn't want to pull away, but he has to. Societal norms being what they are he can't wrap himself around his friend at the door and beg him not to go. Not when he'll see him in a few hours anyway. Not when he doesn't even know if this friends thing will last. Not when he doesn't know what he wants.

"See you later," Dan says, and Phil takes comfort in the fact that he means it in a literal sense. 

"See you." 

The door closes and Phil finds that his flat is just as quiet and lonely without Dan as he'd thought it would be.

\--

Louise corners him as soon as he gets to Google. They're all shoved into the presentation room again with the red chairs and the awful coffee and Phil can't help the way he cranes his head over the crowd to scan the room for Dan. He isn't there yet, but then Phil hadn't really expected him to be. 

"Phil Lester," Louise is saying, a quick and effortless smile on her face at the sight of him. "How are you? No one has heard from you in ages!" 

It hasn't been ages, not by his usual standards, but Phil knows this is a leading statement designed to engage him in conversation until their reach the topic she really wants to talk about. As usual this tactic makes Phil feel a little jittery, slightly anxious about the whole thing because he doesn't really know what angle she's going for when she asks, but it's never that bad with Louise, he just wishes she'd be a little more straightforward about it. 

"Oh, hey Louise. I'm fine, fine. Been busy with the video and everything. I went home for a bit." 

"To your parent's?"

"Yes." 

"So… you haven't had a chance to think about whether you want to get involved with this project yet or…" 

Phil cocks his head at her before he realises. Louise has no idea he's agreed to work with Dan, no one does. Because he'd agreed, somehow, and then run away to his parent's house without getting in contact with anyone. Once again his insular nature meaning that no one in his life has any idea what is going on with him until they ask because he never likes to volunteer information. 

"Oh! No we… Dan and I… we're working on it together." 

"Oh!" Her face lights up in surprise, Phil can't really blame her. 

"Yeah." 

"Well, I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with," she says, "you know, once you get a chance to actually think about it!" 

Phil mumbles into his hand and Louise wraps a delicate hand around his wrists pulling his hand away so she can hear him properly. 

"We've actually… um, finished… the.. Err… video." 

"You've finished?!" 

"Yeah," Phil says, "We've…" 

He trails off because at that moment Dan walks in through the door on the other side of the room and he temporarily can't breathe. He's changed clothes, in his usual skinny jeans but with a soft looking black hoody over the top over an equally soft looking t-shirt with a slogan that Phil can't read. 

Louise glances over her shoulder to see what has distracted Phil from their conversation. Dan looks over and grins widely at them both before getting intercepted by another YouTuber before he can make his way over to them. 

"Oh Phil," Louise says, looking at him plaintively.

"What?" 

"I mean… do I really need to ask? Have you seen the way you're looking at him right now?" 

Phil realises he's still looking, just watching Dan talk to another person across the other side of the room and it's completely pathetic. He can't help but track Dan's relaxed and casual posture, can't stop himself noticing the way he flicks his eyes up and over the guy's shoulder to catch Phil's eye and share an exasperated look, a tiny roll of his eyes that Phil can clock even at this distance but might not really be obvious to anyone else. Phil feels his mouth curl into a smile in response and he looks away sharply before he laughs and gives him away. 

"Oh Phil…" Louise repeats, patting him on the arm.

"You keep saying that." 

"Well… It's just… this is new." 

"What is? My having a friend?" 

Louise barks a laugh, quick and sharp but full-bodied. "Oh god," She says once it's over, "You're serious." 

"Um… well yeah… Dan and I are sort of… friends. Kind of." Phil feels his heart rate pick up because Louise obviously doesn't think they can be friends, she's finding the whole situation hysterically funny if her repeated laugh is anything to go by. What is is about Dan Howell being his friend that is so hilarious?

"I don't think you are," Louise says, the hand on his arm patting again but feeling patronising. Phil begins to feel smothered, like the room is closing in around him and he opens his mouth to talk but nothing is coming out. 

"I… we... " He sucks in a steadying breath and tries to combat the sheen of sweat now gathering on his lower spine. "He says he's my friend."

His voice sounds pathetic, tiny and reaching, like he doesn't really believe what he's saying. 

"You don't look at him like he's your friend Phil," Louise continues, "You look at him like you want to be more than friends." 

That is too much, because although he's had the idle thoughts about how good looking Dan is, it hasn't been anything specific has it? He hasn't really… but he remembers the urge to touch Dan all the time, to have him be in Phil's personal space, and this isn't something he usually feels about friends, even if he doesn't have much experience with the subject. But he has even less experience with what Louise is suggesting, and none of it good. 

"Lou…" he says, his words getting caught in his throat so that it is pretty much aborted by the time it reaches his mouth. This is only intensified by Dan choosing that moment to break away from his conversation and stroll up beside him, dropping a hand on the space between Phil's shoulder blades in greeting. 

"Hey," he says, "Long time no see," his laugh is warm and perfect and Phil could swim in the melted chocolate of his eyes and oh my god. She's right. 

Phil doesn't join in with the laugh and Louise looks a little perplexed. 

"I was at Phil's house earlier," Dan clarifies. 

"Were you really?" 

"Yeah, we were finishing up the video." 

Dan doesn't share the fact that he stayed over last night and Phil isn't sure why. He isn't sure why the light slip of a lie is there in place of that information, replacing today's events with yesterday's to give excuse for Dan being at his house. Maybe he doesn't want people knowing he stayed over. It is quite suggestive, Phil reasons, and it would cause way more of a scandal than they perhaps want to cause. Being friends with Phil gives Dan an edge on social media and shares their audiences, there's really no need to take anything further, it won't gain them anything, So Dan is probably right to avoid any speculation of that kind, especially when it was entirely innocent and likely to remain that way. 

Phil is feeling the thud thud thud under his breastbone and his vision is swimming ever so slightly, the room seeming to shift and tilt. He needs to get out, get some air, because the revelation that he might have feelings for Dan Howell is too much to cope with in this tiny crowded room. 

"Excuse me…" Phil says backing away from Louise and Dan at a rapid pace, only stumbling over his feet once before he reaches the door. 

He makes his way blindly through corridors before reaching the door to the outside, not focussing on any of them but making his way on pure ingrained memory of the layout of the building. Once out in the air he gulps down the cold refreshing oxygen and it burns slightly on the way down but the space around him makes him feel a little better. 

After a few minutes he feels himself come down from the near-panic, narrowly avoiding being plummeted full-on into that abyss. He rests his back against the outside of the building and continues to swallow cold air while he tries to get his head around all of this. 

Dan Howell. The concept is crazy seeing as how a few weeks ago he wasn't even sure he wanted to associate with him at all, had just admired him from afar through his videos but now… now Louise is right. He isn't looking at Dan like he's a friend, and that's why he's so scared to let himself go and just trust him, because it isn't friendship he wants. He wants… he doesn't know. He wants to keep Dan close, to keep him within arm's reach always if not closer. He wants more nights like last night, cosy in the solitude of his flat with Dan, sleepy and adorable, curled up on his couch. He wants to let his head rest on Phil's shoulder, to slip an arm around his waist, to press his mouth into Dan's hair, to take him to bed… 

Phil shakes his head to rid himself of that train of thought because it's pointless. This is all a stupid stop-gap situation for Dan, a temporary friendship of convenience that he is sure will continue in some sort of constrained and polite iteration over social media and at public events, but will be nothing like the last few weeks of lingering Skype calls and Dan fitting into his flat and his space, looking at home amongst his things. It's a heart-rending notion, but Phil has to put this all away, pack it tightly down deep with the rest of the stuff he's repressing, because it's ultimately doomed. Nothing like this works out for Phil, he isn't meant to have someone like that, he'd accepted that a long time ago. 

He leans his head back on the cool surface of the building and closes his eyes against the harsh, cold sunlight. 

"Are you okay?" he hears from his left and looks up to see Dan standing there, his hands in his pockets, maintaining a distance. 

"Sorry," Phil says, "I just… I wasn't feeling well. I needed some air." 

"Okay," Dan nods, his face skeptical, "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah," Phil says forcing a smile he doesn't feel at all onto his face, each muscle contracting slowly, jaggedly. He feels numb, like he's floating a little, watching all of this from the outside and wondering what he'll do next. 

"I thought maybe… I thought that voice in your head might have been being a dick. I came out here to tell you not to listen to it." 

"It's... " Phil pushes himself off the wall. "It was. It's stopped now." 

The lie is simple, and he's thankful that he manages to execute it because the alternative is trying to talk his way around the thoughts rushing through his head at the moment and he isn't sure he's really capable of it.

"You want to talk about it?" 

Phil shakes his head offering no elaboration at all.

"Okay. Do you want to go in?" 

"Okay." 

Dan leads the way and Phil follows, using him as a homing beacon to get back to the room. Louise shoots him a sympathetic and concerned look across the room but he tries to avoid it. He sticks next to Dan, even if that is also painful, because he isn't sure how much time he has left to be next to him, to be by his side and have Dan lean over and whisper jokes in his ear as the community representative is giving his speech. He resolves to push all of the extra stuff down, just cram it underneath the rest of the crap he's avoiding and embrace the moments he has left. He can forget all about any potential feelings, simply teach himself not to feel that way anymore, it will be fine.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 30 of my [Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com/fedijmasterlist)
> 
> This is late. I know. But here are some reasons why: Squidge moved in. The internet went down in my entire area. I was really tired yesterday. I was tired because I woke up sick today. I had tickets to see Carrie Hope Fletcher in Addams Family and I had to go to that. So here is it, a little after midnight UK time but… finished. It's also the longest chapter so far so hopefully that makes up for it.
> 
> Also the exact nature of these plot points might have evolved in this chapter because I'm ill. Write what you know and all that. But the reason for the scenes stays the same I just changed the conditions they happened in. I actually prefer this so hey, there's an upside to being ill.
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

Phil had thought the video was finished. That's what he'd told Louise anyway, but a few days after the check-in meeting Dan had turned up at his flat convinced that they needed to have another look at it. 

Phil is used to the paranoia that comes with posting videos you might not think are good enough so he doesn't fight Dan on it too much. He does try to reassure him though. 

"It is pretty good already," Phil says and Dan is wandering through his flat to get the extra chair from the kitchen table. He's made himself at home quickly, but Phil doesn't really mind considering the warm feeling that spreads through him when he sees it. 

"I just want to make sure," Dan shrugs.

Which is how they end up huddled up in front of the computer again, watching the video through. They still laugh at the bits that are intended to be funny, and Phil still gets the familiar twang of longing for the story, wishing it was his actual life. He can't really see anywhere that he'd make improvements, at some point you've just got to call it finished or you'll be forever trimming things and moving them around. 

"I told you," Phil insists, "It's good. It's fine as it is." 

"Doesn't hurt to check. You know, this is a pretty big project to be apart of." 

Phil nods, because of course it is. 

"Hey what's this?" Dan says, saving the file again and seeing Phil's recently filmed video in the save folder. "Oh my god is this the next AmazingPhil video?" 

"It might be." 

Dan's eyes go wide and his face looks the picture of youth. "Not to revert to my fanboy roots but I am seriously fighting an urge to click it and have a sneak peek." 

Phil contemplates it for a moment, remembering the last video he posted and how he wished he had someone to look over it to offer an opinion before he posted it. He'd thought he was pretty much done with this one but he could always use an outsider's perspective. In fact, he finds that he is kind of excited at the idea. 

Phil reaches across Dan's body with one long arm, ignoring the way his heart beat picks up when he's pressed up so close, and clicks down on the mouse to open the file. 

"No shit,really?" Dan says, turning to the screen. Phil doesn't hear anything else from him for the next 4 minutes and 53 seconds. 

When it ends Dan looks thoughtful. 

"What?" Phil asks after a moment, because he's beginning to worry what Dan's reaction might be. 

"Well it's great, obviously." Dan rolls his eyes slightly as if the worry in Phil's voice is completely unnecessary. "Do you mind if I offer an opinion?" 

"You'd want to?" 

"Only if it's okay," Dan says sincerely, "I mean, it's your channel and your creativity and I wouldn't want to step on any toes. I know you don't collaborate usually so I wouldn't want to… you know, overstep." 

"Um… I don't collaborate because of you know, other reasons. Nothing to do with thinking that I'm perfect or something." 

"God, no…" Dan says in a rush, "I didn't mean… I just… yeah." 

Dan laughs nervously and Phil can't help joining in. They catch each other's eye and realise just how ridiculous they are being, stumbling over what to say, hesitating, when it's clear neither of them mean anything badly. 

"I have enjoyed collaborating with you on this project," Phil says sincerely once they've calmed down, "I would very much like your opinion on this video. You have a great eye and a lot of talent and I'd be lucky to hear it." 

Phil ducks his eyes to his lap because once he's finished speaking he's convinced that the way he's said it pretty much gave away how he feels, betrayed that nagging pull in the pit of his stomach that reminds him he has feelings for Dan that he's trying to ignore. 

Dan doesn't seem to pick up on it though, but his mouth does drop slightly in disbelief that they're being so candid with their praise. It's implied, the mutual subscription, the admission they've been watching each other's videos for years, but how much they've enjoyed this particular project hasn't been spoken out loud, not really. 

"I've really enjoyed it too," Dan says, and Phil thinks he could be telling the truth. "And yeah… I mean I'd tell you how talented you are but I think I've embarrassed myself enough for one day." 

"So… the video?" Phil asks, trying to move as far away from this little bubble of tension as he can. It's awkward to be this open but it's also dangerous, if he starts letting little pieces of himself out it'll be all the more difficult to get over all the swirling nonsense he's feeling. He's pushing it down, keeping out of sight, because he won't survive it if he tries to face it. 

"Right, yeah…" Dan reaches for the mouse and navigates to a certain time stamp. He's obviously memorised it as he seems to get to the place he wants straight away. "I just wondered why you didn't film a skit for this part of the story. You did the other bits but you just did this in narrative." 

Phil has to giggle a little at that. "I did!" he says, leaning across again to navigate to the folder where he's got the clip saved. 

The whole leaning across Dan to get to the house wouldn't be a problem if Dan wasn't left-handed and had to switch over side it's on. It ends up on the far side of the desk from Phil and he's almost in Dan's lap by the time he reaches it. 

He looks sideways at Dan when he locates the file and finds they are devilishly close. His eyes might flick down to Dan's mouth, but only briefly, he just prays Dan doesn't notice his slip. 

"Um…" Phil moves back as the clip starts. "I filmed this, but it just didn't, you know, work. I can't put my finger on why." 

Dan falls silent as he watches it then once it's finished reaches over to play it through a second time. 

"I have an idea," Dan says, his voice quiet and low. 

"Okay," Phil encourages, "shoot." 

"I think the problem is that the camera is static. If you filmed it as a tracking shot you could do the whole bit, and maybe even the bit after as one thing. It would fit in more with the story and you'd get a bit more leverage out of the physical joke." 

Phil cocks his head, because he hadn't actually thought of that at all. Not that he would, because tracking shots require the one thing he doesn't have. 

"I have no one to help me film it." 

Dan turns in his seat to face Phil, their knees brushing again. It's happened so many times now that Phil should be used to it, but it's still as disconcerting as it always is, dan is still warm and wonderful and Phil still wants to lean into it. 

"Is that shirt clean?" He points at the screen. 

"I think so." 

Dan waits, until Phil realises what he's getting at. 

"You want to help me film it?" 

"Well… I don't have anything else to do today." Dan shrugs, like it's nothing, like he hasn't just offered to basically do work this afternoon when he doesn't have to.

"I don't think my budget stretches to cameraman fees," Phil says, half joking. 

"Don't be a twat," Dan laughs and punches him softly on the bicep, "Obviously I'm just doing it to help out a friend. You'd do the same for me right?" 

Phil considers it and realises that, contrary to how he might have replied a few weeks ago, yes, yes he would. 

"Sure."

"Okay then," Dan says, shooing him with his hands. "Shirt. Camera. Go." 

This sets a dangerous precedent. 

\--

A week later, dan shows up at his flat again. 

"You ever think you're going to turn up one day and I'm not going to be in?" Phil asks as he opens the door having let him in via the intercom. He feels tired, slightly achy all over. He's kind of convinced that he's coming down with something but he doesn't want to give anything away.

"I'll take my chances," Dan says, and this time he has a bag over his shoulder. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Phil steps aside to let Dan in, coughing a bit. He doesn't even blink when Dan makes his way to the couch without prompting. 

"Well, you know how I did you that amazing favour the other day?" Dan flings himself down on the couch and pulls his laptop from the bag at his side, setting it down on the coffee table.

"Was that pun intentional?" Phil perches next to him. Dan's hair is slightly curly today, he notices, the way it curves around his ear and across his forehead. 

"If I say it was does that mean you'll help me?" Dan turns to look at him now the laptop is whirring to life, and Phil has to rip his eyes away so that he isn't caught staring at the soft waves in Dan's hair. It's because he's getting sick, he reasons, that's why he's letting his guard down so much today.

"Might mean a flat refusal actually," he counters, summoning all the bravado he can. "That was bad." 

"Oh," Dan laughs, "In that case it was absolutely accidental and I shall begin the grovelling immediately."

"Forget the grovelling," Phil says, waving his hand dismissively, "It'll take too long. What did you need?" 

Dan just grins at his joke and turns back towards the laptop. "Well… I filmed a video and I have an idea for a skit and…" 

"You need my help filming it?" 

Phil isn't sure how his voice sounds but it isn't as light and breezy as it should be, which makes Dan looks at him with wide apologetic eyes. 

"Fuck. Sorry, that was really bloody presumptuous of me wasn't it?" 

"No," Phil says, trying to calm the situation, "I didn't mean… I don't t know why I... " He can't think what to do so he places his hand on Dan's arm and squeezes reassuringly. "I'd love to help. You helped me afterall." 

"Don't feel obligated." 

"I don't," Phil says, and squeezes again. God, what's wrong with him? He's breaking all kinds of barriers today. "My video turned out really good, I'd love to help you with yours." 

"Okay."

They watch what Dan has so far and Dan explains what it is he wants to do. 

"Sounds great, yeah, I think it'll work really well. Do you have your camera or did you want to use mine?" 

"You want to do it now?" 

"Why not? Unless you'd rather not have my flat in the background. People might know where it is if they watch me too…" He coughs again. 

"I don't mind. Are you sure you're up to it? You sound like you're getting sick." 

"I'm fine," Phil lies, "It's just a bit of a cough. It'll go away." 

"If you're sure," Dan says with narrowed eyes. 

"I am." 

"Your camera then? I don't have mine with me." 

"Okay." And Phil gets up to fetch his camera. 

\--

The video has been up 24 hours and people are already speculating all over Twitter about the fact that Dan had filmed part of his video in Phil's flat. 

**Wetheyoutubers:** anyone notice how the latest @danisnotonfire video was filmed in @AmazingPhil flat?

**CarlieSimone:** Are they filming together now? How soon till we see them in a video together?

**danisnotonfire:** @CarlieSimone maybe sooner than you think

Phil can't blame Dan for hyping them up. The first of the British Invasion videos has gone up and YouTube are already tweeting about how it's a month long event consisting of never-before-seen collaborations with a big surprise at the end. People have already been throwing their names into the ring of gossip so it behooves them to start hinting at it he supposes. 

As of right now, he can't be bothered to do anything. He's wrapped in his duvet even though it's way too warm because sticking out his limbs to the cool air feels way too cold and he can't regulate his body temperature. He knows he should just get up to fetch some paracetamol, that he has a slight fever and that would help, but his limbs ache and he can't bring himself to get up. 

He does, however, reach for his phone when it vibrates. 

**Dan:** i don't know about you but starbucks is calling my name

Phil doesn't want to film anything today, he doesn't want to get up and go to Starbucks to get roped into another project, however fun they've been, he just wants to sleep. 

**Phil:** If it was I wouldn't hear it from my sickbed

So he's feeling a little sorry for himself. He's being lazy and indulgent but he really doesn't feel well and the idea of moving isn't pleasant. Just another hour, he thinks, and then he'll get up and make coffee at least. 

He's not usually one to look for sympathy publically but he could really do with the boost today. He opens Twitter. 

**AmazingPhil:** I always want soup when I'm ill but I don't have any in. Pray for me internet. ^_^

The instant responses from his followers do a little to make him feel a bit better, all of them wishing him well or suggesting he gets soup delivered. 

**AmazingPhil:** I should get it delivered. Where is good in London for soup?

This is almost feeling like it did before, when Twitter was low-pressure and he didn't have to overthink everything he put out into the public sphere. It's possible that he'll regret it in the morning, or whenever his fever breaks and he can think about all of this in more detail, as for now he really doesn't have the energy.

He closes his eyes, fingers still curled around his phone, feeling the weight of it make his wrist droop off the edge of the bed. He's saved from dropping it because he doesn't get a chance to fall asleep before his phone is vibrating in his hand. 

**danisnotonfire:** what kind of soup?

Phil huffs out a small laugh because it's all he can manage, but in his head he's throwing out something raucous because it's kind of a funny response, and the fans are sure to get a kick out of it. 

**AmazingPhil:** Tomato obviously. You have to have tomato soup when you're ill.

He leaves it there and something feels a little lighter in his chest because if Dan is joking with him on Twitter then he hasn't caused too much upset by refusing to get coffee. He knows dan probably wants to do a video thing, they've been doing that lately, but he really can't bring himself to go. 

He gives himself another half hour in bed before he drags himself up, duvet hanging from his shoulders like a thick, heavy cape and trudges through his flat to face the kettle. The front of his head is tight, sharpness wound up in his sinuses and his eyes feel grainy behind his glasses. It's a head cold, mostly, except some of it has found it's way to his chest because every now and again he's be stricken by a coughing fit that makes him double over. He's in the midst of one of these, the kettle boiling on the counter when he hears the faint sound of a knock at his door. 

It's almost lost amongst the sound of his own coughing in his ears and the rumbling of the water but he hears it anyway. He isn't expecting anyone, and he hasn't buzzed anyone up so he assumes it's a neighbour come to entice him into giving to a charity or complain at him about some unknown slight. He considers just ignoring it and pretending he isn't home but realises this all the noise he was making they probably know, and it would be even more awkward not knowing which neighbour he needed to avoid eye contact with next time he saw them. 

He should ditch the duvet but the thought of facing the cold air outside of it keeps his hands gripping it firmly around him as he opens the door. 

"Well don't you look pathetic." 

The voice is warm and full of a laugh that isn't actually uttered but is intended all the same. 

"What the hell?" 

"You asked for soup, I delivered." 

Dan steps into his flat giving him an appraising look and chuckling at the pathetic image Phil must make with his scruffy pyjamas, red nose, glasses and bedhead. The duvet is the least of his problems right now. 

He waves a tin of tomato soup in the air in front of Phil's face. 

"It's not exactly restaurant quality but I can heat it up for you if you like?" 

"You really didn't have to do that!" Phil insists, "I thought you were joking on Twitter." 

"Well I had to come and see if you really were sick or just being a big faker." Dan says, shrugging off his jacket, the tin of soup transferring between hands as he slips out of the sleeves. He throws it down on the small table in Phil's hall where he puts his keys, like he owns the place, like he can just come here and mess it up whenever he wants. Phil can't help but smile. 

"What the verdict?" Phil asks, closing the door behind him since it seems like he's staying whether he's been invited to or not. 

Dan narrows his eyes and pretends to survey him closely. "I don't know, needs further consideration." 

Phil nods and follows Dan to the kitchen where he begins opening and closing cupboards haphazardly with no apparent sense of order. He does shut the cupboard doors after himself though, which is more than can be said for Phil.

"Pans are in the left cupboard," Phil points out, and Dan follows the line of his pointed finger, pulling out a pan and setting the tin of soup down on the counter. 

"This is probably going to be shit." Dan advises, "I don't exactly cook." 

Phil shrugs, "Me either." 

He's overcome with another coughing fit and Dan moves closer to him, the pan held awkwardly in one hand.

"That's either the best acting job I've ever seen or you actually are sick," Dan decides. 

Phil attempts a weak smile but he misses when another cough forces its way up. 

Dan leans a hand over then, the free one not holding the pan, and presses the back of it to Phil's forehead. It's wonderful, slightly cool without making him shiver, Phil wishes he would stay just like that forever, with his soft fingers pressed to his skin. 

"You're really warm," Dan concludes. "Go, get on the couch with your stupid duvet and I'll bring this in." 

If Phil hadn't had feelings for Dan before this moment, he would do now. The compassionate and worried look on his face is enough to send his stomach into somersaults. 

He leaves Dan to the business of heating soup and flops down on the couch face first. The duvet over his shoulders flying upwards in the draft for a moment before settles over him. He's a mess. He needs to shower and he should be being a better host when he has guests in his house but he just can't find it within himself to move once he's settled. 

He knows Dan is probably just protecting his investment. The tweet had looks good with the fans, so the fact that Dan actually brought him soup? Astounding. 

Dan wanders in with a glass of water and some paracetamol. 

"Take these. Don't argue." 

He thrusts them at Phil unceremoniously and Phil scrambles to comply. 

"What makes you think I'd argue?" 

"You seem like you're the type." 

"Nah," Phil counters, sending the tablets down with a gulp of water, "I pretty much do what I'm told when I'm ill. I bet you're the stubborn one." 

"Maybe," Dan replies shiftily, watching to see that Phil takes the tablets. 

Seemingly satisfied that he has he informs Phil he's going back to finish the soup. For a horrifying moment Phil thinks that Dan might mean to tuck him in or something, but he simply reaches for the glass and sets it down on the coffee table. 

"Get some rest," Dan informs him, "I'll be back with your soup." 

Phil has never been so grateful for someone in his life. He's useless when he's ill and as he doesn't generally find himself in people's company often, lives alone, and his family lives over 200 miles away, he doesn't usually have anyone to take care of him like this. Even if it is all for show Phil is so incredibly grateful he fishes his phone out of his pocket to show his appreciation. 

**AmazingPhil:** @danisnotonfire is here and forcing me to eat soup and take medicine. 

He posts the tweet and closes his eyes, resting his head back against the throw pillow, only to open them a moment later when he hears Dan's phone sound in the other room. Dan has him on notification. The thought makes him dizzy, but that could just be the cold. 

A minute later, his own phone makes a sound and he hears Dan laugh from his kitchen, the honey-rounded sound of it echoing off the tiles. 

**danisnotonfire:** @AmazingPhil tweeting is not resting dont make me confiscate your phone

He laughs out loud as Dan walks into the living room carrying a steaming bowl. 

"I mean it," Dan says, "phone away." 

"It's away, it's away." Phil slides his phone onto the coffee table and sits up slightly to accept the soup from Dan's outstretched arms. 

The first mouthful of soup is glorious. Hot and soothing and exactly what he'd been craving. 

"S'good" he says around the spoon. 

"It's from a tin," Dan shrugs, "how good could it be?" 

"You have no idea." 

Phil makes an appreciative hum and continues eating. 

Dan sits on the other end of the couch, flicking the end of the duvet up. Phil bends his legs to make room but once Dan is sat he tugs on Phil's ankle until his legs are stretched out over his lap. Phil would be concerned if it wasn't so comfortable and he didn't already have so much going on in his head.

"You didn't have to come and check on me," Phil says after a while. "I'll be fine to work on the video and stuff once I'm better. Sorry I couldn't come for coffee, did you need a video thing or--" 

"Phil," Dan interrupts, "I didn't come for that. I came to bring you soup like I said I would." 

"Okay," Phil replies. So it's only for Twitter, so it's just for the recognition of the fans, building the brand of them as friends. Either way, Phil's happy he's here. 

He finished his soup and puts the bowl down but Dan doesn't move. Instead he drops a hand to the bend of Phil's foot and rubs a thumb over the jut of his ankle bone, dragging it backwards and forwards in a comforting motion that has Phil's eyes dropping shut and his head moving further down into the pillow.

"Rest," he says, and Phil does.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a short break, this is back! I've missed you all so much!

The videos come out over the next four weeks. Dan visits often. When one is uploaded they've developed a sort of ritual of waiting for each other to watch them and Dan will text Phil sometime in the evening, or he won't, either way he'll show up. Phil ends up giving him the code for the downstairs door because it's easier to just let him in when he knocks than it is to buzz him up since he knows he's coming anyway. 

There are a few times, after the video has finished and they are plunged into the quiet darkness of Phil's flat, that they move on to other videos, or a DVD, or video games. Prolonging the moment when Dan has to leave as though neither wants it to come. Dan sleeps on his couch a few times, and he's always there in the morning. 

It's cosy and warm and Phil is getting to used to it, which is dangerous, especially when he knows it has a shelf life. Their video will be uploaded soon, and then there's the wrap party for the whole group, and then they will have run out of excuses and Phil will have to deal with these feelings he has once and for all. To get over them, or to burn away with them, he hasn't really decided.

PJ, at least, is the same as he always is. He drops round too, complaining he hasn't seen Phil in ages and carting with him some weird card game that Phil can't really get his head around but is trying his best at. 

He's just lost another hand, sat cross-legged on his living room carpet opposite PJ at the coffee table when there is that ever-familiar knock at his door. Phil gets up immediately. 

"Expecting company?" PJ asks, his face surprised at how unsurprised Phil's is. 

"It'll be Dan," Phil explains with a shrug

"Dan?" PJ repeats. "Dan Howell?" 

"Yeah." Phil forgets that this is strange and unusual behaviour for Phil Lester.

"Since when does Dan Howell drop by your flat?" 

"Um… since… you know, we worked together on the project. It's just for that community thing, we watch the videos together when they're uploaded. He's probably here to watch tonight's I forgot to tell him you were over. Should I have asked him to cancel?"

"No," PJ smiles, his eyes twinkling with something that might be pride, but Phil has no idea what he has to be proud of, "the more the merrier." 

With a short nod, more to himself than to PJ, Phil goes to answer the door. 

Dan doesn't wait for an invitation inside, simply barrels in, chatting non-stop as he drops off a carrier bag in the kitchen. 

"I think you're rubbing off on me," he says, disappearing around the doorframe and out of Phil's view. 

Phil has no choice but to follow, just to keep up with whatever the heck it is Dan is going on about. 

"Some guy on the tube on the way over here was quacking. Actually quacking, like a duck. I thought it was just you that attracted strange people but honestly…" 

He keeps it up, the constant drivel of commentary, drifting from the kitchen once he's deposited his bag, and heading to the living room. 

"Is it catching do you think? The attracting strange people thing-- oh. Hi. You're PJ." 

Dan is in the doorway and turns his head back over his shoulder to look at Phil. 

"Wow. I'm… such a dick. I totally didn't know you had company. Because I just presumed didn't I? Wow. Sorry. I'll… leave you to it."  
He takes a few steps backwards but Phil moves up behind him and places a hand on his shoulder. 

"Don't be silly," he insists, "We were just playing this weird game, you should join us." 

"That okay with you?" Dan asks PJ.

"Sure mate, the more the merrier," PJ repeats, looking around Dan at Phil with an amused expression. 

Dan gives Phil a last look of apology and then crosses the room to sit down opposite PJ on the carpet.

"What are we playing?" 

Phil smiles at the two, they make a good picture, like a dream sequence of what his life might be like if he socialised more. Friends gathered and comfortable in his flat. But it's like he's watching it from the outside, too stuck in his own head to really immerse himself in it. 

PJ begins to explain the rules of the game and while Dan's brow furrows slightly, he nods as if he understands. Phil hesitates only briefly before taking a seat next to Dan, crossing his legs so that their knees brush, even though there is really no need for them to. PJ crooks and eyebrow over Dan's head as looks down at the cards, Phil pretends he doesn't see. 

They play a few hands and Phil still doesn't really understand the game, but he has an excuse for not really paying attention this time. PJ and Dan get along famously, laughing and fondly chiding each other in a free and easy way Phil envies with every fibre of his being. They haven't socialised much before tonight, Phil knows, but he thinks they'll leave as friends. It warms something in him to think of the two closest people to him getting along. Which says something about him if he includes Dan stand-in-friend-for-the-sake-of-the-internet Howell as one of the people closest to him.

"I brought beer," Dan says suddenly, as if just remembering, which is a new development, because he doesn't usually.

Were they meant to drink it alone? Did Dan bring beer for him and Phil to drink while watching the latest youtube community video? It wouldn't be entirely strange, he supposes, but still, it's a novelty and for some reason it sends Phil's mind wandering to imaginative places. So much so that he doesn't catch himself as he watches Dan leave the room, a small sigh escaping him as he disappears. 

"Phil," PJ says, knocking him from his trance.

"Um, yeah? Sorry, what?" 

"Phil…" PJ looks kind of mad, the space between his brows shrunk into a dipped line, harsh and judgemental, "I said you should make friends with him not fall for the guy."

"Wha-what?" Phil stammers, "What the hell are you… talking about?" 

It's a token protest at best, because PJ doesn't look like he's believing it and Phil isn't putting much emotion behind it. 

"Oh god," he says instead, dropping his forehead into his hand. Their voices are low, dipped so that Dan can't hear them. 

"On the one hand," PJ is saying, "I mean… it's great that you're… you know, getting out there. But… Phil, come on, is it wise? After everything that--" 

"No, no, no" Phil says, his hands waving wildly in front of PJ's face as if trying to push the words back into his mouth, "No no no. We're not… He doesn't…. No." 

"Okay," PJ says finally, patting ineffectually at Phil's hands to get them to stop, "Like I said, I'm glad you're getting out there. You know, not that long ago you wouldn't have been able to… you found it difficult. But… I mean Phil, another YouTuber? Really?" 

"I know," Phil says, shaking his head and dipping his eyes, not even wanting to see how pathetic he is reflected in PJ's expression. "I'm dealing with it. It's all over soon anyway and then it won't matter. Like you said, maybe it's just the start of me like getting out there a little bit… yeah. After this… I can… you know… move on to something… better." 

PJ only gets as far as nodding in reply before Dan is back in the room carrying three glass bottles of beer. It isn't the horrible kind that Phil usually hates, the ones he gets stuck holding at parties, it's the light Mexican kind, laced with tequila or similar. He's jammed a wedge of lime into the rim of the bottle and Phil knows the sour will mix with the taste of the beer and tequila and end up tasting quite nice. 

They play a few more hands of the game while they sip, and Dan fills the awkward silence with his large, brash personality and Phil is thankful for it because he has no idea what he would say to either of them right now. His head is full of PJ's disapproval, because of course this is all a stupid idea, given his history, and he'd honestly turn it off if he could but one look at Dan, sweeping the fringe from his eyes with the back of his index finger while staring down at his cards and Phil knows it's hopeless. Just the sweet curve of his mouth twisted into a slight frown at a bad hand is enough to flip Phil's stomach over. 

PJ leaves soon after, needing to get home to Sophie, and Phil walks him to the door.

"He's a cool guy," PJ is saying, "Just... be careful."

"You know I always am," Phil sighs, "Too careful. Isn't that my problem? You're always saying that is my problem." 

PJ nods, "I know. Maybe some of that caution has rubbed off on me. Mostly I just don't really understand because … well, Dan is very out-there isn't it? Social media wise. I thought that'd be the last thing you wanted." 

"It is," Phil insists, "I don't actually… look, I'm not going to do anything. It's an infatuation, he's cute or whatever and I'm dipping my toe in." 

"If you say so Phil, looks a little more than a physical crush to me though mate, you're fairly gone on him."   
"I can't be," Phil shrugs, "can I? Another Youtuber? Please… there are so so many reasons why that is the most insane thing I could possibly do. And anyway, Dan would never… it's not like that." 

"I'm not arguing with you on any but that last point," PJ says, "He'd be a fool not to. Just…" 

"Be careful," Phil repeats, "I know."

PJ nods, hugs him very very briefly, staying out of Phil's space in a way he appreciates when he's feeling this prickly, like his skin might erupt into flame, and then he leaves. 

He returns to the living room and to Dan who immediately begins expounding on how much fun the game had been and how good it was to get to know PJ a little more and--

"Are you okay?" 

"Yes, yes I'm fine." 

"...okay." Dan says, his eyes narrowing briefly, "If you say so. You want to watch the community video now?" 

"Yes."

They watch the video, and then a few more. Dan slides closer to him on the couch, their legs pressed together from hip to knee even though there is more than enough room for them to sit with space between them. 

Eventually they end up with animal videos and autoplay taking over their choosing of them and Dan is wavering between awake and asleep and Phil silently pulls the blanket from the back of the couch like he always does.

"I should go," Dan whispers into the darkness that has fallen over Phil's living room. 

"If you want to," Phil replies, moving to put the blanket back again. 

"I said I _should_ " Dan clarifies, "not that I _wanted_ to. I'm not good at making wise decisions when I want something. I'm trying to get better at that." 

Phil doesn't try to make sense out of Dan's tired babbling, instead just passes the blanket to him and Dan does nothing but hug it to his chest. He can make out Dan's profile in the light of the laptop, the curve of his nose, the dip of his dimple thrown into stark relief in the harsh glow. 

"Me too." Phil says finally. Knowing that Dan is not a wise decision, but he keeps making it, over and over. 

"You're always careful," Dan insists, sleepily.

"Maybe I'm trying not to be," Phil breathes, the words only barely there on his exhale. "Or I'm not as good at is as I used to be."

There is a beat of silence, thick, heavy and loaded with suggestion. Dan turns his head to look Pil square in the face, his eyes soft, and Phil thinks if there was ever a moment that something could happen it would be now. Something rises in his chest, dangerous and reckless, like the pull to the edge of a building, making him want to tip forward just to try something for once, to put himself out there. But it passes, and he tries not to feel too disappointed when Dan lays backwards, stretches out on his couch, kicking out at him lightly. 

"Go on then, get out. Let me sleep." 

Phil laughs, letting the lightness of it ease the dull throb of pain in his heart and stands. He closes the laptop lid, tucking it under his arm and leaves Dan to sleep. PJ is right, he needs to be more careful, this is starting to get out of hand. 

\--

He's more restrained after that. Heeding PJ's advice and his own nagging conscience telling him how stupid he's being and he begins to school himself back into the realms of AmazingPhil. Perhaps, he argues with himself, if he can just be the person he's supposed to be, the one that Dan likes from the internet, the one that can give him all the things he wants, the follow count and the recognition, Dan might stay. 

He's aware how crazy that sounds, how close it is to falling into a repeat of behaviours that have gotten him in trouble before, and how he's prolonging the thud thud thud of painful longing in his chest by wishing Dan will stay close by, but that pain is the only reminder he has that he's still capable of feelings at all. He's scared that without it he'll go back to how he was before, friendless and isolated, and now he's had a taste of what it could be, easy and carefree, he wants more of it. 

It's easy to slip into the persona and if Dan notices, it is only in the small glance of a frown every now and again when Phil makes a particularly off-kilter comment more suited to his channel than how they've been recently. He doesn't offer comment though, simply gazes at him or else flicks his eyes to the side to avoid it. Phil watches it happen but doesn't do anything to correct himself because at least Dan is staying, for now. 

Phil is tweeting, too. Giving little glimpses into their times hanging out and Dan replies regularly. The fans are going crazy over the 'domestic' nature of them and speculation is rife. It's pretty accepted in their corner of the internet that the 'surprise' video at the end of the month is going to be theirs, so by the time the day arrives the hype online is intense. 

"This is going to change things for us," Dan is saying excitedly. 

He's in Phil's flat again, on the side of the couch that is slowly becoming his and Phil has even bothered to buy snacks his time, something Dan had teased him about because as far as hosting goes Phil hasn't been great up to this point. 

They're not on the laptop this time, instead Phil has hooked up YouTube on his TV for the occasion, wanting to bring a little bit of something special to the proceedings seeing how he's convinced this is the last time Dan is going to be in his flat, the project is over, they don't need to hang out anymore. 

"You think one collab is going to have that much of an effect?" he asks, fishing a Dorito from the bowl on the table and crunching on it happily. 

"I think the amazing video you made is going to showcase your talent and increase your subscriber count, yeah." 

He says it so casually, as if bestowing the praise is easy for him, effusing from his being like water, drenching over Phil, cooling him.

"The video _we_ made," Phil corrects, shaking his head, trying not to allow the compliment to take root there, "the concept was your idea, really."

"But I couldn't have done it without your amazing filming and editing skills, Phil. You're truly talented, you could direct big movies one day." 

Phil feels his face colour and he shoves at Dan's arm to distract himself, "Shut up." 

"I'm serious," Dan insists, laughing so that his whole face lights up and Phil wants to take it in his hands and swallow it down. 

"But your story telling was what made it great, you have a real knack for the way you put words together… maybe you should write the movie script. Or star in it. You're great at acting. I'd let you have creative input on the cinematography too." 

"Cheers," Dan says, eyes dancing through the sarcasm. "I'll just do all the work and you tell them where to point the camera? Seems like a fair split!"

Phil imagines then what it might be like to work with Dan on something bigger, a larger project that combines their talents into something their audiences could enjoy. He thinks about how that would mean getting more of Dan's attention, more of his time, more of those smiles aimed directly at him, so wonderful and bright he could go blind from it. 

He tries to remind himself not to get too attached to them, because this is ending tonight. This is the last time. 

They refresh the page once more and the video is there, their phones chiming in perfect sync as they each receive a notification. 

"Here we go," Dan says.

Phil just nods and clicks play. 

Watching the video in this space is strange. They've seen it before, countless times, played back on Phil's computer while they edit, but this is different. They aren't perched on separate chairs for one, but are as close together on his couch as they always are. And they can't make changes, if they see anything they don't like this time, it's out there for the world to see. 

"I'm glad we didn't change anything," Dan says in a hushed tone, doing that thing where he reads Phil's mind a little bit. "I'm glad you talked me down from my crazy neuroses about it." 

Phil huffs a laugh, because the thought that he can help anyone with their issues is astounding, because he can't sort his own out so he's no idea how to do it for anyone else. 

"The video is great," Phil assures him again, doing the impossible and reaching out to pat at Dan, meaning to go for his arm but finding his hand drop on his knee. Dan doesn't visibly react so he probably gets away with it. 

The story on screen is once again tugging at him. He watches as Dan's character is lit solely by the glow of a laptop screen, head surrounded by a duvet. It's the perfect depiction of a lonely teen watching YouTube for solace. It will resonate with the viewers in a great way, but Phil too understands that longing to be apart of something. 

His own character going about the business of making videos, scrolling through twitter and then, yes, noticing the lonely teen finally. Then a montage, a series of Tweets, Skype Calls, Text Messages before finally… a bustling train platform, Phil stationery by the stairs and Dan making his way across, slow at first and then at a run, almost colliding with him. 

"You're real," Dan had said, which hadn't been in the script but had been a better line than the one that they'd planned. Phil grins, wide and happy and they turn, heading off for whatever adventures await them. 

There's a final shot, a video Dan's character has made finally being uploaded, Phil looking on supportively, so the cycle can start again. This doubles out to screen after screen, thumbnail after thumbnail, depicting the growth of the community if everyone encourages each other, reaches out, works together. It doubles and doubles until the screen is impossibly covered in screencaps, Dan's lost amongst the crowd, the colours of them forming the YouTube logo which sits for a second before the screen fades to black. 

"God," Dan says when it ends, Phil reaching to stop the next video from playing. 

"Yeah." 

"I sort of wish…" Dan starts before trailing off. 

Phil pokes at him, a pointed finger sinking into the flesh of his upper arm. "What? You seeing editing mistakes?" 

"No," Dan clarifies, turning his full body, hitching one leg up onto the couch so that he is leaned in towards Phil. "I just sort of wish that something like that had actually happened sometimes. Like, I _was_ that guy, watching YouTube by myself in my room. It would have been nice to meet someone back then, a good friend." 

Phil nods, because at the time Dan is talking about he could probably have done with a good friend too. Something a little more honest, innocent, something not tearing him up from the inside. 

"I do too," he agrees, "I wish things were different. But hey, you got into YouTube anyway!"

"I did," Dan nods, "I procrastinated the hell out of it, and I probably could have done with something as encouraging as that but… I got there eventually." 

"I'm glad," Phil says, honestly. "Twitter time?" 

Dan nods and pulls out his phone. 

They spend some time replying to fans on Twitter who have seen the video, answering questions about it and saying that no, short films isn't something they've done before but yes they'd enjoyed it. Someone asks if they'd ever work together again and Dan is diplomatic in his answer that he loves collaborating and is always open to people with great ideas. It doesn't really answer whether he'd work with Phil again specifically, but Phil doesn't press the issue because Dan is a master at saying only exactly what he wants to on social media, and nothing more. 

They give up after about forty five minutes because they can't possible answer everyone, as much as phil would like to, and it's beginning to descend into the 'phan' side of things and Phil knows those interactions are best left well alone. They don't even need to discuss it.

When they're done Phil reaches for the remote to put something else on, it's the same gesture he's done a bunch of times so he's mildly surprised when Dan begins to stand. 

"I should go," Dan says. 

"Should?" Phil asks, bravely, "Or _are_?

Dan's face relaxes into a kind of smile, it is one for all intents and purposes but it doesn't quite reach his eyes in the way that Phil is used to. Instead, they look flat and sad. 

"I am." 

"O-Okay." Phil says, standing as well, "I'll… show you out." Which is stupid because Dan knows where the door is, he knows all the corners of Phil's tiny flat by now, he's spent time here enough. 

The walk to the door is like a funeral march, a slow plod to the end of all of this, there are no statements of 'see you tomorrow' and no promises of anything else nestled between them. It's done, and as much as Phil might have longed for this moment a month or so ago he finds that it's sitting heavy on him, like a stone. 

"This is it," Dan says, redundant because Phil knows what his own front door looks like. 

"This is it." Phil repeats. 

Dan shrugs into the jacket over his arm, running a hand distractedly through his hair, shuffling and fidgeting, doing everything not to meet Phil's gaze until finally, he takes a breath, looks like he's decided, and looks up. 

"Thanks for… everything," he says, "I had a really good time on this project."

"Yeah…" Phil hates the sound of his voice, it's wispy and pathetic, all tangled around those pesky feelings churning in his chest so that it can't come out the way he intends, "me too." 

There is still no suggestion of anything more, and Phil wants to say 'let's do it again' or even something as flimsy and intangible as 'see you soon', he wants to say these because he can't say 'stay' or 'don't go'. 

Instead he says nothing more, because on top of the thin way his voice is stretched, he can't trust what words would come out were he to attempt anything at all. 

Dan slips into the silence, leans forward, arms extended. They wrap around Phil's shoulders unexpectedly and pull him close. He doesn't keep himself bent away this time, presses against Phil's body tightly, toes nudging at the tips of Phil's own and Phil can hear the rush of breath escaping him in his ear. 

He doesn't know what to do, simply goes with his instinct, with his want, and curls his arms around Dan's waist, holding him tighter, trying to communicate something, anything at all, just with the touch. 

"Take care," Dan says as they part, and this is worse than goodbye. Goodbye could mean 'later' it could have anything bundled into it. 'Take care' is final, and it stabs into Phil's chest, the warmth of Dan's body long gone, and takes root. 

"You too." 

Phil feels himself drift as Dan takes hold of the door handle, sparing him another little glance as he slips into the hallway and then a small, casual wave, as if nothing is wrong even though it feels like Phil's world is crumbling away. 

He watches as Dan rounds the corner at the end of the hall, memorising the soft curve of his shoulders, the broad expanse of his back. He lets the image sit for a while, closing the door to his flat and wandering back to his living room to gaze at the space Dan has left on his couch, wondering how long it will take before he stops thinking of it as belonging to him, before he stops expecting him to show up of an evening. 

It's done, he tells himself, it was great while it lasted but it's time to start the business of getting over it. Like PJ said, it was just a way for him to get out there a little bit, he's proved he can do it, it's time to move on to something a little wiser, something that doesn't scare him beyond belief… something that doesn't make his heart beat wildly and his palms sweaty and his head float. Something that doesn't make him as happy as Dan might have. It's time to just let it go.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting for this. So much has happened and I won’t bore you with my excuses. Just know that I would have done it sooner if I could have.

In the mirror, Phil wonders if he looks as bad as he feels. If he stares closely enough, critically enough, he can see the slight purple tinge to his under eyes where he hasn't really been sleeping. The thump thud of his heartbeat too loud in his ears, too distracting in the silence of his flat. He can't settle anywhere, his bed feels suffocating, and although he doesn't want to go anywhere else because the outside world seems to rub at him uncomfortably, it feels like a small dank hole he's crawled into that he can't escape. Attempts to sleep on his couch have failed too. The moment he'd stretched his legs onto the other side had felt like an intrusion, like he was somewhere he didn't belong. 

The days are passing treacle-slow. He's wading through them moment to moment, feeling trapped in place, but reluctant to go anywhere at all. He's had to drag himself up now, pull on a clean pressed shirt that luckily had been hanging in his wardrobe. If he'd actually had to attempt to iron one, he might have given up entirely. 

It's the party. The wrap-party for the British Invasion project, every YouTuber who'd been involved, and every staff member at Google and just a whole host of people crammed into one room and Phil will have to interact with so many of them. He's hiding in the bathroom, having not even found the strength to enter the room yet.

He's amazed at how quickly he's lost the ability to be enthusiastic about any kind of interaction. He remembers looking forward to Dan's visits of an evening, thought nothing of him invading his space. His shirt is sticking to him now though, nervous-hot and awkward, uncomfortable. He's overthinking what he's going to say to everyone, what he'll even say to PJ and Louise, second guessing everything he comes up with. It's been awhile since it's been this bad. 

He breathes out, slow, counting the seconds in his head, breathing in again, holding it, counting, counting. He's trying to be mindful, piece out the thoughts in his head to find out the root cause of his anxiety but it's difficult when there are so many facets to it this time. He can bet it's got something to do with Daniel Howell though. Doesn't everything these days? 

He hasn't heard from him since he left his flat a few weeks ago. A few half-hearted tweets about the video, including him in replies to fans gushing about how good it was. Faint, false promises and encouraging sentiments of 'we'd love to do something together again' and 'never say never' just felt empty and like weak, thin shadows of actual emotion. But Dan hasn't texted him, hasn't appeared at his door like a wild burst of noise and colour that Phil had grown to expect. Phil is learning to re-orientate himself around the silence he once found such comfort in. 

He still looks pale and clammy in the mirror but he can't hide in here for much longer. He knows there will be a little presentation speech from the Google guys running the project, and he can't really be absent for that. He runs a hand down the placket of his shirt one more time before using what little strength he can find in his arm to pull the heavy door open. 

The air in the room isn't as hot and claustrophobic as he expects it to be, but it still isn't pleasant to be amongst the crowd. He does the usual, and sticks to hovering near the drinks table. 

Coffee is probably a bad idea, jittering along his nerves even with the first sip, but he needs to do something with his hands and this is as good as anythings else. He spots PJ and Louise on the other side of the room, each talking to someone else, people Phil recognises, people he'd probably be able to speak to himself if he wasn't so useless at all of this. He doesn't know how to just stride over and enter himself into the conversation. Much more content to sit back, sip his foul tasting coffee that is beginning to make him vibrate and survey the scene, safely removed from it. 

It's a mistake, to scan the room. He spots Dan on the other side of it, leaning casually in that way that he has. Looking so much like that time at PJ's party except that he isn't talking to anyone. He's staring determinedly down at his phone, fringe swinging into his eyes. If Phil didn't know any better, he'd say that Dan looked just as out of place as he feels right now.

He pushes down the urge to go over to him, to lean in and make some silly joke that they will both laugh at. He doesn't let the craving to see the dimple pop in Dan's cheek as his face folds into a smile, spreading outward in the way that it does when Phil does something he finds particularly humourous. He misses how easy it was to make Dan laugh, because it had been. But if Dan had really enjoyed it, if any of it had actually been real and not a flimsy excuse for something wrapped up in the project and the need for attention, he'd have spoken to Phil by now. Wouldn't he?

"You look all tall dark and brooding over here by yourself," says a light voice at his shoulder. 

Phil turns to see Louise hovering by him. 

"What are you--Oh!" 

"Hi Louise," Phil says turning to her, blocking her view where she's following his eye-line, crooking an eyebrow in a suggestive way. 

"You know, I think you're allowed to go over and talk to him," she says in a mock whisper, "It is allowed." 

Phil feels the heat rise in his face. Hot and uncomfortable, he remembers what happened last time he and Louise got on to the subject of Dan, the mild freak-out, the near panic-attack outside before Dan had come to find him. He's fine, he's breathing, he's not going to freak out. He doesn't feel panicky, just sad. 

"It's complicated," He settles for. "How are you anyway?" 

Small talk. This is the thing that is most difficult when he feels raw like this, but he'll suffer through it, anything to stop this conversation dead in it's tracks because he really doesn't want to talk about Dan. 

Louise slips on from it easily, her gentle smile and bright eyes a refreshing break from how sullen and dark Phil has been feeling. There has been less colour in life recently, which is ironic considering it's Dan's absence that has brought this about, and he isn't exactly known for bringing a technicolour feel to things. 

Before he knows it they've been talking for five minutes and Phil, concentrating as he is on trying to remember how to dust off those social skills he hasn't used in a while, has lost track of Dan. When he glances over he is no longer leaning against the wall, it's just a blank expanse looking empty for his absence.

There is suddenly the sound of microphone feedback from the front of the room and the low din of chatter comes to a halt. 

"Hello," the same guy from the beginning of the project is saying, "We're about to start the photoshoot and we want to get a good group shot so if you could just get in to your collab pairs? That would be great. Thanks guys!" 

He's too cheery as usual. He's grating on Phil's nerves and he's mostly too preoccupied with all of that annoyance to realise that he's going to have to find Dan. To interact with Dan. To talk to him for the first time since he left his flat. This is for work, he reminds himself, he can do this. 

"Hey."

The voice is so well-known to him he doesn't need to turn his head and look to know who it is, but he does anyway. He lets his breath catch in his throat because Dan's black shirt is slightly textured close up and for some reason it makes him look wonderful and Phil can't stop looking. Perhaps it's because he hasn't seen him in a bit, but he looks brand new. He doesn't look too upset, just businesslike, serious. 

"H-Hi," Phil manages, stumbling over the single word, making him sound idiotic. 

Dan looks like he wants to say something, but instead he draws his mouth into a line, it would be a smile except the corners of his mouth are pointed downward, not up. It's the type of expression you make when catching eyes with someone on the bus, not when you're looking at a friend you haven't seen in awhile. It is this, more than anything else, that hammers the point home. 

There is nothing else for it. Phil needs to turn this all off, straighten up, shake it off, and just be what he needs to be for this moment. He can go home later, back to the dank stale smell of his bedsheets where he's been festering for days and crawl back into the well-worn space and languish there in his misery. Just for a bit. Just to sleep off some of the exhaustion from dealing with all of these pesky emotions. It was never a problem before he met Dan, this was never something he had to think about dealing with. He wishes he could go back, erase Dan from the equation so that he never had to feel this way. He was doing fine before, existing if not living perhaps but, at least it didn't hurt this bad. He had coping mechanisms. 

When he pictures it, going back, he thinks of never replying to Dan's tweet, he thinks of never meeting him for coffee, never agreeing to do the video. He thinks of the hours and hours of Skype he would have saved himself, the space on his couch he can no longer think of as belonging to him claimed back, the hours and hours of autoplay YouTube videos or countless anime episodes, Mario Kart races, slices of pizza. By the time he's finished thinking of everything he'd gain from going back and doing it all over, he's reminded himself of everything he'd have to give up, all the memories and moments he'd lose. 

Dan sleep ruffled in his kitchen. Dan smiling at a joke, or curled up under a blanket. Dan in his house, on that patch of sofa, belonging there. Phil finally smiling again, feeling the flip in his stomach when Dan leans close. Realising he can feel this way again, it is possible. The elated-fear that comes with the never-quite-sure sensation of being around Dan. The almost-moments. He can't wish all of that away, he just can't.

"You okay?" 

Phil puts on that bright AmazingPhil smile, cocks his head a little more readily, acts looser and more comfortable than he really feels. 

"I'm great," he says, "How have you been?" 

"Good." Dan dips his head, averts his eyes slightly from Phil's. 

"Good," Phil repeats, because he doesn't know what else to say. 

The crowd begins to shuffle in and he ends up squeezed in next to a stranger on the end of a row. They're at the back of course, due to their height, but Phil winds up next to someone he doesn't know who feels the need to sling their arm around his shoulder. He immediately stiffens, shoulders going tense, his jaw clenching. 

Dan leans over into his space and Phil can smell the scent of his cologne as he passes in front of him to speak to the person next to Phil. 

"Mind if we switch?" he says jovially, "Gotta get that good angle, you know?"

The guy looks momentarily perplexed but removes his arm from Phil's shoulders anyway, shuffling so that Phil and Dan can switch places. Phil is now on the end and Dan angles himself in his direction, away from the strangers, so that if Phil doesn't think about it too much, he could imagine that it's just the two of them there, that no one else exists.

He doesn't know if Dan did it on purpose, but it warms him to imagine that he had.

"Thanks," he murmurs. Schooling his face into a facsimile of his usual smile and facing the camera wielding photographer at the front of the room. 

"For what?" Dan asks, but the corner of his mouth picks up. It's the first interaction that feels reminiscent of how things used to be between them. 

Phil spots PJ and Louise in the crowd, as well as a bunch of other people he recognises enough that he could talk to them, but he's too raw at the moment and finds it makes him feel lethargic and overwrought just thinking about it. Instead, he keeps the smile on his face when the guys puts the camera down, and stays rooted to the spot as the group begins breaking up. 

He imagines Dan will move away again once it's all over, but he doesn't. Instead he lingers in Phil's space, looking about himself. 

"Don't know about you," he says conversationally, "But I really hate these things." 

"You?" Phil says despite himself, barking a little laugh, "Dan Howell hates promo meetings?" 

Dan's eyes narrow slightly and a crease appears on his forehead. "Yes?" he clears his throat, "I hate all of that posturing shit. Like, it feels dead forced doesn't it? Besides, you always have to talk to a bunch of people and I'm not so great at that." 

Phil is shocked when his mouth opens to respond, because really he has nothing to add. Except maybe to express his surprise that Dan understands this particular emotion. It certainly isn't something he'd expect to hear from Dan Howell of all people. 

None of this comes out of course, his mouth just hangs there, void of words, empty and awkward. 

"It's not all branding you know," Dan mercifully continues, filling the space in the conversation Phil's response should have. "I really am the awkward loser who never goes outside." 

"Me too," Phil says, despite himself. He isn't really ready to expand on it any further, but something swells in him as he realises Dan might understand after all, something like hope perhaps. 

"Probably why I… you know... After the thing." The flick of Dan's hand in the air speaks volumes. "I mean, I didn't know how to... "

"Me too." Phil repeats.

"Yeah to be fair, I'm not sure why it had to be me. You could have picked up the phone you know." 

Dan makes it sound simple. Dan makes it sound as though picking up a phone and calling Dan Howell and asking him to come round just because, even though there is no video or project or any reason at all except that Phil missed him, was a viable solution. He isn't sure what universe Dan is inhabiting, but it isn't the same one as Phil. 

Again, he doesn't articulate any of this, just shrugs in place of what should be words.

"We're useless," Dan offers, saving Phil from having to find something to say. It doesn't feel like the conversation really got started, let alone like it's finished.

Phil just nods. 

"Did you wanna…" Dan hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Get out of here? Like, grab coffee or something? Some coffee that isn't you know… awful." 

The prospect of more caffeine might be a bad idea for Phil, who is still feeling on edge, jumpy and raw, but it's outweighed by the promise of spending more time with Dan, since apparently that is something he's allowed after all, so he agrees and follows him out of the room. 

He watches Louise raise her eyebrows as they pass, PJ's face turning into something concerned yet strangled, like he's trying to dampen it. Phil offers them both the mere ghost of a smile, hoping at least PJ doesn't recognise it for what it is, a simple presentation of the persona he hides so carefully behind. He knows Louise won't be able to tell, but PJ is a little trickier.

Leaving the building they pass the spot where Phil had freaked out weeks before and he's reminded of how suffocating all of this felt, how it still does, mostly, but he's become more used to it. Wearing the pain of this unrequited… thing so readily that he's forgotten what it was like before it existed. He's foolish, reckless, but the pull to Dan is so strong that the arguing voice is drowned out by the way Dan's fingers brush against Phil's back as they go through the door, guiding him left instead of right. 

"Starbucks is that way…" Phil says lamely, wondering if he's gotten the wrong end of the stick.

"Yeah… um, but my flat is…" Dan looks up at him through his lashes, sheepish and adorably hesitant in a way that Phil hasn't seen him before. Something feels different, shifted, but he can't tell what. "I thought that you could just… come back to mine." 

Out in the cool air of the world, with space around him, Phil should be able to think everything through more carefully. He should be able to rationalise that if he'd felt as bad as he has the past week or so, just from simply being removed from Dan's presence for a little while, surely it isn't advisable to start all of this up again. He should be able to do this, but he can't. 

"Sure," Phil dares. Reckless. He's so reckless. This isn't at all what he should be doing. He should be protecting himself. 

There's silence for a few moments as they walk, maybe it's comfortable on Dan's end. Maybe he isn't overthinking everything, but Phil is. He's taking stock of how close he's walking, making sure it isn't too close, that Dan feels suffocated, or that he might find out that Phil likes being that close, but that it isn't so far away that he feels Phil is being standoffish or weird. He's over thinking the way his hands swing at his sides, whether he looks ungainly, whether his shirt is too stupid, regretting wearing it just because it was a thing that was clean and not too creased. 

It's in moments like this he retreats, backs away into that carved out space in his personality reserved for the pieces he has carefully selected as safe. The bits he can put on camera, the bits he knows the world won't find too offensive or strange. It's a coping mechanism, because in moments like this, all the other bits of him feel too out of place, or not enough. 

"Did you know that some animals actually make friends?" Phil says suddenly, relying on some stupid animal facts buried deep within him saved for moments just like this. 

"Is that right?" Dan seems non-plussed really, but Phil has to press on.

"Yeah, like lions can become emotionally attached to other lions even if they aren't mates or biologically connected. Not tigers though. Tigers are like… antisocial." 

"And which are you?" Dan asks. 

Phil has just enough bravado saved up to attempt a dodge of the question. It's loaded anyway. 

"And you call yourself a fan." 

Dan doesn't respond. Which is the first alarm bell Phil should have been aware of, but he's so preoccupied trying to navigate what he _should_ be saying in moments like this that he misses it completely. 

"Lots of animals are solitary actually," he continues, "I think we often think of all animals as belonging in packs. We have all those collective nouns you know, like a murder of crows which just sounds completely ominous. But, like… bears. For example. They're generally quite solitary. So like, Goldilocks had it wrong." 

He's babbling, tripping over his words and spouting completely nonsense like he would in a video. He hopes he's entertaining enough that Dan doesn't notice how his clammy hands are shaking. 

He manages to keep up the endless diatribe of completely useless drivel until they reach Dan's flat, which is tucked behind a little non-descript door next to an off-licence and up at least 3 flights of stairs. Phil loses count.

Dan opens the door, still silent and stoic. It's about then that Phil begins to notice it. He catches glimpse of an orderly hallway, symmetrical but with a stack of papers on the edge of a cabinet, like everything had been tidied but there hadn't been a place for these things. It's very Dan. 

"I thought we agreed…" Dan starts as soon as the door is closed behind them. 

Phil is pulled away from seeing if the rest of the flat is so reflective of the Dan he knows so well, because Dan is blocking his way, arms crossed over his chest. He looks mad. 

"What?" 

"I thought we agreed not to pretend." Dan says, "That we wouldn't do any of this pretence shit." 

"I don't… What… I mean… Dan…" 

"No," Dan cuts him off, uncrossing his arms but letting them swing by his sides in a way that communicates how useless they must feel. "We agreed not to do this. We said we'd be friends. With our actual personalities and everything." 

"We did." 

"Then why am I getting a big old dose of AmazingPhil right now and not my friend Phil?" 

"I…"

Phil backs off, steps one foot behind the other until his back is pressed to the closed door and there is some space between him and Dan. He needs to think, to string words together into a fashion that communicate what it is he's feeling, but all that happens is that his voice gets caught in his chest. 

Why is Dan doing this now? He knows he shouldn't have come, knows something like this was bound to happen because no matter how much he tries, how much he struggles to be the person that everyone wants, that person on the internet everyone knows him as and wants him to be, he'll always be a disappointment. 

"I'm serious," Dan says, and he doesn't sound mad exactly, just a little hollow, pleading. "I want to know, why are you pushing me away? I thought… well, I guess I just thought we were different than this." 

"We are," Phil insists, his voice a rush that explodes from him, still caught up in a tangle so that his words aren't fully formed, but the point gets made anyway. "We are I just… I'm scared." 

"What on earth could _you_ have to be scared about? I'm the one… well, I mean… there's nothing you should be scared of." 

"I'm scared it will all be over soon," Phil confesses, spurred on by the hopeless look in Dan's dark eyes that is begging for an explanation. That, and the thought that he might not get another chance. He's reckless. And he's beginning to like it. "I'm trying to be the person you want me to be. So you won't go away again." 

"I didn't go away." Dan sounds confused, like their separation is something Phil has made up.

"After the project you… we didn't…" 

"I told you! I'm fucking awkward as hell. There's only so many times I can come round your house with the excuse of a video or a project. Was I supposed to just turn up on your doorstep the night after? Keep going on like I had been doing? Without the excuse of the project? What if you'd turned me away, what if…" 

Dan has stepped closer. Phil would usually feel trapped by now, instead he just wants to pull Dan against him and hold him still. He resists. Barely. 

"You're AmazingPhil. I've been watching you forever. I couldn't just… turn up." 

"Exactly!" Phil throws his hands in the air, "You want AmazingPhil. You want the video guy, the one you watched and thought was cool. I'm so far from that person. He's not real, not really. He's the person I wish I was. He's the person I was before… a long time ago. I'm not that guy." 

"That's not true." 

"It is." Phil sucks in a breath and Dan comes closer still. 

"Phil…" 

"You could have turned up. I wanted you to." 

"You know, you could have called _me_ "

It's a valid point. But Phil can't escape the obvious. The reason why he hadn't called, why he knows it wasn't really an option.

"You want AmazingPhil," he explains, "Not ordinary-boring Phil. I'd have called, but without the project or the videos or… any of it. I'm just… me. You don't want me. You want the rest of it. The views and the followers and the… you want AmazingPhil. So that's what I'm trying to give you." 

"Wow." The word isn't spoken to Phil, it's muttered under Dan's breath, only audible because as he utters it he steps into Phil's space, reaching out a hand and splaying it on Phil's upper arm, stopping it from flailing the way that it is. 

He feels warm, the heat of his palm soaking through Phil's shirt. Phil leans into the touch, he can't help it. Having Dan this close is intoxicating and he wonders if his reckless brain has created this for him, it might not even be real. He might be back in his bed after all, a crumbled mound beneath his threadbare blankets. He doesn't care if it isn't real, if it's all in his head, as long as it lasts just a little longer. 

"I don't want AmazingPhil," Dan says, his fingers curling around Phil's bicep. 

Phil risks moving his own hand upward, cupping it around Dan's elbow because he doesn't want him to pull away. 

"I…"

Dan's eyes close for a second, blinking and breaking eye contact and Phil feels his hand tighten, subconsciously pulling Dan further in. Dan stumbles slightly as Phil tugs, but he moves until he's mostly pressed against Phil and it's a weird kind of hug, connected only at one arm, Dan's other hand coming to rest on the wall near Phil's ear to steady himself. 

Phil shouldn't have pulled on him, but Dan's eyes fly open when he loses balance and now he's right up close, so close Phil can feel his breath on his cheek. But Dan isn't moving away, instead his newly-opened eyes flick down to Phil's mouth and then back up. Phil wants to nod, or shake his head, or move away, or _something_ , but he's rooted to the spot, trying to figure out what happens next. His heart is hammering fast in his chest, his brain is going a million miles a minute running over and over how this is a bad idea. He's recalling every memory he has to compare to this one to convince himself that he knows how this ends, but he finds that even if he thinks about the last time someone was this close, it never felt like this. Not really. Nothing has ever felt like it does with Dan.

"I don't want AmazingPhil," Dan repeats, looking him dead in the eye with a determined look on his face. "I want you." 

And then Dan does the impossible, and kisses him.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys sent me so much amazing feedback and motivation over on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl) today that is spurred me to finish this. Thank you :)

Phil wakes alone. His arm stretches out to the other side of the bed, hand empty, space unoccupied. It takes him a moment to realise where he is, and why this is a bad thing. He stares at the empty, ruffled sheets and feels his chest constrict, the familiar hammering of his heart against his breastbone. He turns his face into the pillow but the scent of it washes over him, and that doesn't help at all. 

Instead he remembers last night. His back flush against an unfamiliar front door, Dan's elbow under his fingers, gripping, pulling him closer. Had he pulled him in, or had Dan leaned in of his own accord? He can't remember. He does remember the press of Dan's lips for the first time. That soft pressure, as if testing the waters. 

_I want you _he'd said. Him. Phil. Ordinary, just-Phil with little to offer by way of virtues, but Dan had said he'd wanted him. Had kissed him.__

__Had continued kissing him, hands drifting everywhere, down his chest, his waist, his hips, as if he couldn't get enough. Phil had done much the same, mapped the broadness of Dan's shoulders under his palms just because he could. He really couldn't get enough, afraid the bubble would pop and he'd realise this was all some fantastic dream he'd been having alone in his musty bedroom. A fantasy conjured from loneliness._ _

__But Dan had wound his hand under Phil's shirt, pulled back for a paralysing second to check if it was okay, and Phil had only freaked out for a moment before nodding silently, easing Dan back to him with a hand on the nape of his neck.He still doesn't know where that came from, those bold movements so unlike him but happening nonetheless._ _

__They'd tripped down an unfamiliar hallway, Dan's shirt left behind them by his own hands. He can't remember actively making the decision to remove it, but it was gone in a second. Followed closely by Phil's, Dan's palms warm on his skin, their bare chests pressed together, all pale, soft skin and tingles. Oh, the tingles. Phil had forgotten what it was like to have tingles._ _

__Phil tears his head from the pillow, interrupting his thoughts because remembering it when he's now alone is making his heart feel a little heavy. He looks around the room instead, finding it basically monochrome, mostly symmetrical, save a few spots of colour. The desk at the end is familiar, recognisable from the background of Dan's videos, and it's making the whole thing too surreal for him to stay where he is so he swings his feet to the floor and begins the process of finding his clothes._ _

__He shivers in the cold, but finds that everything he needs has been folded and placed on the computer chair, so he's able to pull on his shirt and jeans and even his odd socks relatively quickly. Then he's fully dressed, but unable to find his shoes, and somewhat adrift in the middle of Dan Howell's bedroom._ _

__It's like a hangover. Everything from last night feels slightly distant, like it happened to someone else. His heart is still hammering and he knows what he needs to do is find somewhere quiet, away from all this stimulus. Somewhere he can process his thoughts. But he can't. Because he's alone in this place, with Dan nowhere to be seen and the sight of the doorframe is bringing back the kinds of memories that make his stomach twist. He wants to smile, to scream, to slam his fist into something._ _

__He let it get out of hand, he should have thought more, but Dan has been kissing him with such intensity that his head was swimming, blissfully empty of anxious thoughts as they spun into the doorway. Phil has paused then, pressed Dan back against the doorframe and taken his time, trailing his hands across all the skin available to him before resting on Dan's belt buckle._ _

__He'd leaned back, looked Dan in the eyes hard and long and swallowed against any rising nerves. He didn't think, where he perhaps should have, but he knew the only way to stop himself freaking out about all of this and ruining it completely was by immersing himself entirely. Push through it, surround himself in Dan, Dan, only Dan and just override any panicked thoughts he might be liable to have if he stopped. He breathed, just for a moment, and slid the leather through the buckle with ease._ _

__Phil has to shut his eyes, press fingers against his eyelids to stop the rush of memories from the night before. He's breathing fast now, his heart going quickly, but it's the shake in his knees that's the worst thing. His mouth is dry too, and he clamps down his teeth to try and stop them chattering. He feels hot, but clammy, and he knows he'll have to sit down._ _

__He sinks into the computer chair and it twirls slightly, feeling less stable than he'd like it too. He opens his eyes, tries counting things he can see, things he can hear, things he can touch. But all he can see is disturbed sheets from the night before, the familiar black and grey too much a part of his own fantasies and daydreams to really be real, and nothing he touches seems real right now. He can hear his own blood rushing in his ears and his stomach is painful, twisting and sinking in equal measure, his brain going over and over how stupid he is for everything. Because Dan is gone, Dan is not here._ _

__He remembers the moment when Dan's belt came free, when he'd looked at Phil through his eyelashes, his brown eyes half-lidded and wanting. He remembers Dan taking him by the hand, soft and lovely in the dim light of his bedroom. He remembers Dan leaning over to flick on the amber light, bathing the room in an orange glow that glanced off Dan's skin in the prettiest way possible. He knows what happened next, he could recall it in vivid detail if he really needed to but instead his mind is merciful, fading to black as Dan laid back against his sheets and beckoned Phil over to him._ _

__It fades to black because Phil is in full-on panic now. He's trying to breathe and count and all of those other techniques he'd learned at the hospital but he can't remember them, or they aren't working. It's been a while since it got this bad, but this is all just so much, the feelings are large ones. They fill his insides, push against the barriers and blocks he's set up for these things, grow against spaces he thought would never be used again. He panics, because it's all just too much, he feels raw, more naked despite the fact that he's put on clothes._ _

__He isn't present enough to notice when Dan appears, not at first. But even when he does finally register the strong arm around his shoulder, easing him forward, cradling his hyperventilating body against his rib cage, he can't accept the comfort he should find in the fact that Dan hasn't left him here after all._ _

__"Shhh," Dan soothes, running a large hand across Phil's back, rhythmic movements that Phil begins to focus on. He can't count things he sees but he can try to count the times that Dan's hand spans his shoulder blade._ _

__Phil turns his face into the fabric of Dan's tshirt. It smells like him, much like the pillow did, but he can feel Dan's hand on his back and he can hear the rushed sound of Dan's breathing and it feels more solid and real, like a reminder that he exists outside of Phil's crazed imaginings. That last night happened. That it might not be a bad thing._ _

__"Come on," Dan is saying, his voice low and encouraging, "You're okay. I've got you."_ _

__Phil brings a hand up and grips at Dan's hip, begging him to stay as the breath catching in his throat begins to ease. He squeezes his eyes shut, curves more solidly against Dan and uses him as an anchor._ _

__"I don't know… what's… wrong with me…" Phil gasps, even though he does._ _

__"You're having a panic attack." Dan tells him. He doesn't sound accusatory, or like it's strange, unacceptable behaviour that Phil must stop immediately. He sounds reassuring. Phil is having a panic attack, but Dan is here for him._ _

__Slowly, too slowly, Phil's breathing begins to even out, his can unfurl his tense hand from Dan's shirt, can lean back in the chair and get some air to his heated face._ _

__"I'm sorry," he says finally._ _

__"Don't be _sorry_ ," Dan says, his hand moving up from Phil's back as he slumps in the chair, keeping it cupped around his shoulder instead. "Are you okay?" _ _

__"Yes I…" Phil manages a weak smile, "I'm better now."_ _

__Dan nods and takes a step away, sinks onto the bed behind him, hands falling into the soft folds of his sheets._ _

__"Do you want to talk about it?"_ _

__Phil instantly shakes his head, "There isn't anything to talk about it just… happens sometimes. I'm sorry."_ _

__"Stop apologising!" Dan snaps._ _

__Phil finches and Dan's face immediately softens._ _

__"I'm sorry," he says in a rush, "I didn't mean… God, I'm messing this up. I just meant you don't need to apologise for… you know. That. It makes me sad that you feel like it's something you have to be sorry for."_ _

__Phil doesn't really know how to reply to that one, so he doesn't._ _

__"It's done now," he says instead, "I can go."_ _

__"Is that want you want to do?" Dan asks, earnestly._ _

__Phil should say yes. He should make an escape and run away from all of this complicated mess, just until he's got his head around it all. But he's done a lot of that lately, running away when things get big or complicated, and it hasn't really been working for him. Perhaps it's time to try another tactic._ _

__"No."_ _

__"Then don't."_ _

__Dan makes it sound simple. Like staying here and explaining what on earth had made him panic is something that Phil should be able to do without a second thought. It isn't. He wishes it was._ _

__"Do you want breakfast?" Dan asks when Phil doesn't say any more._ _

__"Breakfast?"_ _

__"That's where I was… I…" he laughs, "I didn't want to be the guy to not offer you breakfast the morning after."_ _

__Phil feels warm when the memory of Dan in his kitchen a few weeks ago pops into his head. He'd been surprised to see him then, blushed when Dan made a similar joke even though that night had been entirely innocent. Now, the joke is similar, but it isn't as innocent._ _

__"Well then I shouldn't be the guy to leave for my walk of shame without eating it." Phil quips back. Joking about it is easier than trying to think of this moment, hell the last 24 hours, in any serious terms at all. He doesn't want to focus on what it means, or what it doesn't mean, because the sandy grey of panic is still hovering in the outer edges of his vision and it could come back at any minute._ _

__"It isn't a walk of shame unless you're ashamed about it," Dan says, his voice dropped down a tone, serious and compelling. "I'm not ashamed about it. You shouldn't be either."_ _

__"I'm...I'm not." Phil assures him meekly, his own voice a mere ghost of what it should be. "I was just… you know… joking."_ _

__Dan's smile takes over his face like a burst of light. Phil will make jokes every day for the rest of his life if he gets to see that happen when he does._ _

__"A joke?" Dan says incredulously, "It's good to have you back Phil. AmazingPhil is good and all but… not a patch on the real thing."_ _

__Phil's face feels warm and breath he pulls in is tight against the walls of his chest. His body feels full, some places still by that gnawing anxious feeling, but other places by the glow of Dan's smile so it isn't all bad._ _

__Dan leads him to the kitchen, keeping his pace slow as Phil follows him on unsteady socked feet. When they enter the hall he see his shoes placed neatly by the door and the scent of bacon drifts into his nostrils._ _

__"Bacon?" Phil asks._ _

__"Yeah," Dan shrugs, "Just.. bacon sandwiches. I couldn't really manage much else but I… wanted it to be nice."_ _

__Phil smiles to show him that it is, but doesn't trust what will come out of his mouth if he tries to talk._ _

__There's coffee too and Dan loads his hands up with plates and mugs, both emitting fragrant steam into the air._ _

__"I don't have a table," Dan explains as they make their way to the living room._ _

__They sit on the couch, side by side and close together even though there's room enough for them not to have to, and Phil can't find it in himself to mind about having to eat off his lap._ _

__Dan switches his TV on in comfortable silence and the first bites of his breakfast begin to restore Phil, the food filling the empty pit of his stomach so that he stops feeling sick and shaky. They hadn't eaten last night, hadn't even gotten to the coffee that Dan had promised. They fallen into Dan's sheets, tangled and energetic, losing themselves so that time hadn't seemed to matter. It was dark at the windows when Phil had finally had a mind to look up, the dusky orange of the streetlight shining into Dan's window glinting off their bare skin, bathing the room in a sort of heated ethereal glow, added to by the amber lamp on Dan's bedside table. That shade of orange will forever make Phil's heart pick up, he knows it._ _

__Shutting his eyes, Phil makes the memory fade to black again, practised in the art of editing his own thought processes. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks again and he doesn't want to remember the rest of it. He wants to keep it locked away, just for a little bit longer, until he can recall the way Dan's hands had really felt against him, until the thought of it doesn't make him want to groan aloud._ _

__Dan is being patient, he doesn't press Phil to say any more about what happened this morning and they watch some show or other in companionable silence, but Dan keeps eyeing him slightly when he thinks Phil isn't looking, an expression of concern on his face like he's worried Phil might panic again at any moment._ _

__Phil knows he at least owes Dan a little explanation, and finds the thought of it doesn't fill him with as much dread as it might, in fact he _wants_ to tell Dan a little more, wants to breach the barrier he's placed up between them just a little bit._ _

__"That wasn't the first time I've had a panic attack," Phil says suddenly, surprising even himself._ _

__"I didn't think it was," Dan replies, careful to keep his voice steady._ _

__"I... " Phil takes a breath, "I used to get them all the time. It hasn't been that bad for a while. It's usually… I can usually stop it before it gets that bad."_ _

__Dan turns to look at him, sliding his empty plate onto the coffee table. Phil follows suit, the TV ignored for the moment._ _

__"Like the day of the project check-in meeting," Dan says, "outside of Google."_ _

__Phil nods. "Yeah. That was relatively minor."_ _

__"You said your head gets loud," Dan remembers, "I told you that I'd tell you when it was being a twat."_ _

__Phil remembers that Dan had offered, but he hadn't ever really thought to take him up on it._ _

__"Was that what happened this morning?"_ _

__Phil brings a leg up onto the couch, rests his cheek on his own knee, arms wrapping around his shin. It's like a protective measure, to keep himself contained._ _

__"This morning…" he clears his throat. He can do this, he's going to do this. "I have… anxiety issues."_ _

__Dan nods, like that's a given. Phil supposes that with his behaviour recently, Dan can't be blamed for working it out._ _

__"It's… They call it…" he closes his eyes around the clinical term, because it's been given to him, but he's still not sure that it really applies. He doesn't really think he can be hemmed into a box. Even one as broad as this. "Social Anxiety Disorder."_ _

__The words feel alien in his mouth. He doesn't usually use them, likes to stay away from the diagnosis and terminology given to him by those that were apparently able to tell him what was going on in his head. Because they can't, not really. The only consolation he had had, with the terms that make him think of a stay in hospital and many knowing voices telling him in confident tones what his problem was, is that he wasn't alone in feeling this way. If there is a term for it, other people must feel it too._ _

__Dan shifts, reaches out a hand and covers Phil's with it. He tugs so that Phil's arms unfurl from around his leg and he lets his knee drop so that he feels open and exposed. Dan shuffles in, right into his space, ducking a head to rest on his shoulder, arms sliding around his body._ _

__"Thank you for telling me," Dan says, simply._ _

__Phil could cry. Dan doesn't ask what he can do, doesn't offer to fix it, or fix _him_ , as though there is something broken. Instead he just thanks him for sharing this part of him, hugs him and accepts this along with everything else. _ _

__"There's… more stuff." Phil whispers into Dan's hair. "But I don't... "_ _

__"You don't have to."_ _

__Dan pulls back, keeps his arms wound around him on the grey sofa and looks Phil in the eye._ _

__"How's your head now?" he asks._ _

__Phil has to be honest, there is little point in starting any of this if he isn't. "Loud."_ _

__Dan raises his hands up and cups a palm around each of Phil's cheeks, easing his neck to bend. He brings his pink, chapped lips to Phil's forehead, just once. It's a cool spot against Phil's heated skin and he sinks into it, drawing nearer to Dan's body. Dan lets him go, tucking him under an arm so that he's cradled and comfortable._ _

__"I wish I could make it quiet for you," Dan says, and although his voice sounds lamenting and soft, Phil knows he doesn't mean it in the sense that he wishes Phil was normal, just that he could ease any discomfort Phil is experiencing._ _

__"You did," Phil confesses, thinking of the way his mind had slowed under Dan's touch in the amber light. How he'd breathed easy into the crook of Dan's neck, let his body unwind as he dragged fingertips down Dan's chest, jeans giving way the perfect accompaniment to his thoughts spiralling from him, forgetting anything else but the sight of Dan underneath him._ _

__Dan kisses him then. The cold light of day at the window, simple and stark, unceremonious on his couch, two overly tall bodies folded into too small a space. It isn't perfect, Dan has to crane his neck a little too far and Phil's hand falters when he reaches for Dan's body, fingers shaking still, but despite all of that it's wonderful. Phil doesn't know what it really means, and that should make him feel more anxious, uncertainty never a strong point of his, but kissing Dan makes all of that float away._ _

__Dan isn't magic, Phil knows anxiety can't be cured by a person, and even if it could he'd learned ages ago that he wouldn't want to hand any one person that power. But he's a beautiful distraction, enough so that Phil can choose to focus on that, rather than his own jumbled thoughts. He's a catalyst of Phil's own coping techniques._ _

__They stay like that for a while. The TV is still playing and for all intents and purposes they are watching it. Except Phil isn't sure what show it even is because Dan's hand is stroking along his back in a sort of absent-minded kind of way and he feels protected and safe in a way that he hasn't for a while._ _

__"Shit, what's the time?" Dan says after a while. Forever, ages, a lifetime. It's too short. He jumps up, grabbing his phone and confirming exactly what time it is. "Fuck. I'm late. I'm so sorry… I can't believe I forgot."_ _

__"It's okay." Phil doesn't know what he's agreeing to, but he does all the same._ _

__"I've got to go to the station... The err… radio station. It's… fucking show planning, you know? For like… future shows or whatever."_ _

__Phil is nodding._ _

__"I don't want to go," Dan says suddenly, coming to a halt as he hauls himself up from the couch._ _

__Phil puffs out his cheeks but doesn't really know what to say. Instead he grimaces and shrugs._ _

__"I have the radio show tonight," Dan continues, "But what are you doing tomorrow? I'm asking now. I'm not making the mistake of leaving again without making a solid plan."_ _

__"I'm…" Phil stands, shoves his hands in his pockets to temper the urge to reach out to Dan again and keep him there. "Nothing. I'm doing nothing. Generally, ever, no plans."_ _

__"Okay, so we'll… do something."_ _

__They smile and Dan rushes them through the flat, gathering everything he needs to take with him in a whirlwind. Phil already has his clothes, and he knows where his shoes are so he can put them on quickly. He's left standing in Dan's hallway wondering if he should just let himself out when Dan comes bounding out of his bedroom pulling a jumper over his head._ _

__"Are you always this last minute?" Phil asks, levity coming from him easily as he watches Dan slip into black zip-up shoes._ _

__"Yes."_ _

__He doesn't even hesitate in his answer and when he stands up, finally ready to leave, Phil can't help but laugh at him loudly._ _

__"Hey!" Dan protests, "I'm an expert at doing things in as little time as possible."_ _

__"Not everything I hope."_ _

__The joke comes easily and Phil wants to feign innocence like he usually would, pretend he doesn't really know what he's said, but the surprised look on Dan's face is priceless._ _

__"Phil Lester!"_ _

__Phil blushes, "Yeah… sorry. Don't know where that came from. Not suitable for AmazingPhil huh?"_ _

__"Like I said," Dan says, stepping into Phil's space. He curves his hand around the back of Phil's neck, bringing their faces close, so close Phil can feel his breath on his cheek with the next words. "AmazingPhil is great but… Not a patch on the real thing."_ _

__He kisses him. Slow and soft, deep and with a hint of heat that leaves Phil wanting more even as he pulls away._ _

__"God."_ _

__"Mm," Dan agrees, "I don't want to go."_ _

__"You have to."_ _

__"I know."_ _

__He groans and steps backward, opening the door before he has a chance to change his mind._ _

__They don't hold hands down to the door or anything, and Phil is sort of thankful that Dan doesn't try because he isn't sure how he feels about this whole thing being public. Whatever it is. There is still so much history with his private business being made known to all and sundry that it leaves a bad taste in his mouth to think of this fragile bubble surrounding him and Dan being popped by the presence of someone else._ _

__Dan might tweet about it, Phil suddenly thinks. What if he does? What if this is just something that happened and now that it's over it will just become an anecdote on Dan's channel of the time he seduced AmazingPhil?_ _

__Phil must look ponderous because Dan rounds on him before they hit the street._ _

__"Are you okay?"_ _

__"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine."_ _

__"Tell your head to stop being a twat," Dan affirms, "whatever it is. This is good, right? I mean… I think it was. Is…. Um, good."_ _

__Dan looks unsure all of a sudden, and while Phil can assure him that yes, he had thought it was good, he doesn't know what happens now. What this all means. Only Dan can answer that, but he doesn't really want to be the one to ask._ _

__"It was good," he settles for, "I had a good time."_ _

__"Well… good." Dan shrugs lamely at his lack of effort in finding another word, but he still looks a little unsure. Phil doesn't really know how to fix that._ _

__"So your radio show is tonight," Phil says, changing the subject entirely because lingering on this one is making his stomach twist a bit._ _

__"Yeah," Dan nods, reaching to open the door. "After I've had a boring meeting where I have like, no ideas to share."_ _

__"I'm sure you'll think of something, you're good at it."_ _

__Dan smiles for a moment. They've hit the street and Phil is aware that they are heading in different directions but neither of them seem to be moving to do so._ _

__"Hey!" Dan says suddenly, a quickly moving hand coming to hit Phil solidly in the chest._ _

__"What?"_ _

__"You should be on the radio show."_ _

__"What?" Phil repeats, "Me?"_ _

__"Yeah! I could… ooh, I could get like, a different YouTube person to come on every week and bant with me…" he's excited, his eyes are gleaming with the spark of a new idea and Phil thinks he looks wonderful. "We could called it err… The Internet Takeover!"_ _

__Phil laughs, because it's a great idea, Dan always has great ideas and they hit his out of nowhere. Phil has to take long thoughtful showers to think of anything at all._ _

__"YouTubers escaping from the internet and coming into your ears," he affects a weird announcer voice like the ones on over-egged commercials._ _

__"Coming into your ears?" Phil repeats with a crooked eyebrow, "Even I understood that innuendo."_ _

__"Oh, I don't think you're as innocent as you come across Phil Lester," Dan says, his voice dropped a note or two, "In fact, I know you're not."_ _

__They share moment of silent and shared memory, both recalling the dim lights, the orange glow, the soft press of skin-on-skin. Phil shudders and has to look away._ _

__"So will you come on the show?" Dan asks, "I mean, I owe the idea to you so I think you should probably get to be involved."_ _

__"I didn't do anything," Phil protests, "It was your idea."_ _

__"Something about you sparks my creativity I guess," Dan shrugs, "So you get some of the credit. Come on, come on the show."_ _

__"Okay," Phil agrees. "I'll come on the show."_ _

__Dan makes him feel brave. Like he could go on a two hour radio show with no script and no chance to edit and be perfectly fine. Like his voice box wouldn't freeze and he wouldn't make a complete idiot of himself in front of the whole nation._ _

__"Great."_ _

__Dan seems genuinely happy, and Phil is glad he could be the one to make that happen, even if it's just for a moment._ _

__Dan really does have to go then, and he tells Phil as much. His face probably looks much the same as Phil's, reluctant and uncertain._ _

__"I'll see you tomorrow?" Dan asks as he finally turns to go._ _

__They don't hug, because they're on the street and Phil isn't brave enough to initiate it and Dan doesn't seem to want to press the issue either. But they do linger for a moment, stepped ever so slightly closer than would be normal, so it feels like they've shared something. It's not enough, but it will have to do._ _

__"Tomorrow," Phil agrees, and he stays rooted to the spot until Dan disappears._ _


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop. It's been ages. I know.
> 
> A special thank you to my lovely beta [leblonde](http://leblonde.tumblr.com) [[ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Blonde/pseuds/The_Blonde)] for all the help with this one <3

"I'm the absolute worst." 

Phil is woken by the phone. He's barely answered it, gotten it to his ear, when Dan is yelling at volumes unwelcome for how sleepy he feels. He hadn't slept well. He'd listened to Dan's show, let his voice wash over him between songs and convinced himself he could hear happiness in it, the same happiness he felt wrapped around his ribcage. He'd laid awake thinking for a time afterwards. Of amber lights, and soft hands on his back, slowing his breathing. He'd thought of Dan telling him that it was good, whatever it was they had going on, it was good. 

It didn't entirely stop the doubt, nothing ever would he'd wager, but it did slow it a bit. Rather than worry, he let elation keep him from sleeping. Joy on repeat, rattling around his skull where it didn't usually fit. He fell asleep somewhere in the early hours with a smile on his face. 

"What?" 

The phone had gone off with an insistent buzz and Phil had leaned over to answer it, fully expecting it to be his mum's voice on the other end, so to hear Dan had been a surprise.

"I'm the worst, Phil. I completely forgot about a stupid party and that means I can't like, hang out with you today like I said I was going to." 

"Um, Okay?" Phil coughs, rearranges himself in bed to he's sitting up a bit straighter. "That's okay." He's disappointed, but as long as Dan isn't disappearing entirely, he thinks he can deal with it. 

"It's not okay." Dan insists with a huff of breath into the phone, "I really wanted to… would you be totally against coming with? It'll be a YouTube thing, some of the American guys. I know it's not really your thing they're just all here for one reason or another and I said I'd… I mean, I can cancel. That's better, right? That's what you're supposed to do. I'll cancel." 

"Dan." 

Dan sighs again, and Phil's brain begins to slide into focus, the last vestiges of sleep leaving him so that the day is thrown into stark relief. It's still there, the joy, just flitting about all spiral-shaped and unsettling in the best ways.. 

"I'm not against, you know, parties. I'm not inept at social situations I just… don't really like them." 

"No, no god I wasn't… I didn't mean… I'm fucking this up aren't I?" 

Phil chuckles. It's kind of nice hearing Dan freak out a little bit. The happiness feels warm in his chest and while he isn't entirely used to it yet, he's finding it much more simple than he might have thought to start trusting this. To let go a little of the barriers he might have put up.

"It's fine, Dan, you're not fucking up." He tries to sound reassuring, like he'd want to hear if it were him doubting all of this. "I don't mind parties. I just… I usually feel all alone. Even when there are people."

"I won't let you feel alone." Dan whispers, "I'll be with you. I want to be with you. God I… you have no idea how much I want to be with you. All the time." 

Phil lets that settle in him for a moment, and doesn't even think of trying to find a reply. He's pretty sure his voice would crack in his throat if he tried anyway. He settles for humming his agreement.

"That was unnecessarily sappy and I regret it immediately," Dan says, with a tone of voice that suggests the exact opposite. 

Phil just grins. 

"Me too." He lets the question of whether it's that he too regrets Dan being sappy, or if it's just that he wants to be with Dan all the time as well linger between them without really needing an answer.

"If it sucks we can just leave," Dan suggests, "Or if you don't want to be there. Or if the room has a slightly weird smell. Any reason at all, you say the word and we can go." 

"It'll be fine," Phil insists, "I'm not that fragile." 

"I didn't mean because of that, Phil. I meant because I'd like to make a cursory appearance with my friends because I have to, and then I'd like to buy you a coffee and bring you back here, if that's okay?" 

Phil's head swims with amber light and he nods even though Dan can't see him. "Yes please." 

They're both quiet for a moment, letting that sink in, the thrill of mutual agreement that they still want to do this thing, even after having had time to think about it. 

"So I mentioned your whole Internet Takeover idea to my bosses and they loved it." 

"That was your idea," Phil corrects.

"Well… anyway. They loved it, and they want to put it in place in a few weeks and I said I'd get you to be my first guest co-host." 

"I…" Phil swallows roughly, "Um…" 

"You'll be great." Dan's voice is warm, like a honey-drizzle of encouragement that drips onto Phil's nerves and soothes them. 

He almost believes he could do it. Something about Dan makes him brave. 

"Okay." 

"Great. They'll get the dates over to you. I'll drop by yours before the party?"

Phil snorts. "You're going to pick me up?"

"Thought I would, yeah."

"Alright," Phil replies, "You do that." 

"I don't have to if you--"

"No," Phil corrects, "I just… I dunno. It makes it seem… like this is a thing that is actually happening. Us, I mean. If you… um, know what I mean. Does that make sense?" 

"Uh huh," Dan says, and Phil can hear him nodding. "I get it. But Phil, it is happening. I mean… If you want it to." 

"Yeah." 

"Okay."

There's a beat of silence, just to let that sink in, and then Dan coughs and says he really has to go. Phil does too, he has video stuff to do and he should probably get out of bed. They say goodbye and Phil has the thrum of anticipation for the evening running through him for the rest of the day. 

-

The false sense of bravery brought on by the thought that he and Dan might actually work out lasts all the way up until they arrive at the party. Dan had turned up at his house, the long lines of his body framed in a black fitted shirt as he leant against the door frame. The picture of casual seduction, though he was biting his lip nervously, and Phil wanted to cancel the party entirely and pull him into the flat. Dan looked up through his fringe and Phil set fire with the idea that Dan might not even mind if he did.. 

Now they're here though, the white wood of the strange apartment door staring them in the face, Phil feels the bottom of his stomach drop out and the wide open hesitation take root. 

"Head getting loud?" Dan says, sliding the back of one finger down Phil's forearm. 

He shivers into the touch, breath hitching slightly, but he can pass it off as the nerves. It's all mixing in his head anyway and he can't tell if the anxious feeling he has is about being here in the first place, or being here with _Dan_. 

"Yeah," he croaks, "It's… It's a lot." 

Dan curves his fingers around Phil's for a brief second and squeezes. "I'm right here," he assures Phil, "but, you know, we don't have to... " he waggles his fingers between them nonsensically, but somehow Phil interprets what he's trying to say. 

"Is that what you… Shouldn't we just, keep it to ourselves, for a bit? Just until…" 

Dan smiles, biting his lip again and retracts his hand. "Yep, just until." 

Phil nods, sucks in a breath and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. "Okay." 

"Okay." 

They knock, are let in by a girl that Dan seems to know, but Phil only barely recognises as a fellow youtuber, and they are drawn into the crowd. 

It's too hot, there are too many people, but Dan does a good job of staying near his side. Phil is introduced to people he's heard of, and some that he hasn't, has the delight of some of them being just as excited to meet him as he is nervous to meet them and the whole evening starts to feel fun. 

He's been cradling the same warm bottle of beer pushed into his hand when they'd entered, but really has no intentions of drinking it. It's a useful prop though, when someone eyes his sobriety and asks if he wants another drink he can hold it aloft with a simple 'still working on this one', chuck them the customary AmazingPhil smile and satisfy their interest. Dan side eyes him every time, but only with a tinge of amusement. 

Dan has had a few drinks, but he too seems to be holding off. But then, Phil remembers, they kind of have plans after this. Dan doesn't reach out to him again, but he does hover in Phil's space, close in a way that makes Phil look around to see if anyone has noticed, but they don't seem to have. 

"I'm just gonna," Dan hooks a finger over his shoulder indicating he needs to use the bathroom. 

Phil nods. "Sure." 

"Are you going to be…"

Phil rolls his eyes and jostles Dan with his shoulder. "I'll be fine. I'll be right here." 

"We can go when I'm back if you like," Dan suggests, "I think I've shown my face enough." 

They've taken at least seven selfies with different people since being here so Phil knows there will be enough social media content that they can duck out. He daren't check his Twitter notifications, pictures of him and Dan together are still garnering the kind of attention that Phil finds uncomfortable, especially when all of this is so new, and they fans seem to think it isn't. 

He's got his back resting against a floating shelf when he's cornered by very loud, very insistent people. He recognises them, of course, but they feel the need to introduce themselves anyway.

"Oh my God Phil Lester," the guys says, hand waving dramatically, fingers splayed, palm reaching. "You are even more beautiful up close my god."

Phil offers a weak smile. 

"I'm Tyler," he says, "This is Cat." He gestures to his side where a girl is staring at him with eyes slightly wide but a weird smirk on her lips. 

"Hi," Phil says. He feels caged in all of a sudden, against the modern white shelf poking him in the shoulder blade. It's uncomfortable and he wants to leave, but he has to remain practised in the art of at least faking his way through these social situations. 

"You're here with the delicious Dan Howell, aren't you?" Tyler continues, taking a delicate yet pointed sip of his drink through a thin red straw. 

"Um." 

"Where is our Danny boy? He is going to be in so much trouble I told him when I spoke to him last he had to tell me absolutely everything and well…" he looks Phil up and down which only serves to make him feel more uncomfortable. "Looks like he left something out." 

"He's been talking about you of course," Cat says over the end of Tyler's sentence. "For years. We just never thought that… well. _You know_."

"Err... right." Phil says, because it's easier to agree than work out what the hell they are going on about. 

"It's a fabulous move for you both though. I mean, I was mostly kidding when I suggested it. I didn't think he'd really do it."

"It's true," Cat chimes in, "I told him it'd be a good partnership, but the relationship thing? Genius." 

"I never thought he'd go through with it," Tyler repeats, "But he's a crafty one that boy, just scandalous."

"I don't…"

"Oh there's no need to be shy," Cat says with an exaggerated wink, "We know all about it. We were the ones that told Dan it'd be a good idea. You know, for you both." 

"Um, What would?" 

"You and him," Tyler says, a fraction too loudly, "The whole putting-it-on-for-the-fans thing. I'm glad he finally decided to go for it." 

"Oh it's good for you too, though." Cat says, eyeing the way Phil's face must twist. He's having a hard time keeping it stoic when the whole world is dropping out from under him, threatening to topple him over. "The whole Charlie business. Not quite what you'd want, is it?"

"I…"

"But my golly if it hasn't _worked_ ," Tyler sings with a grin, "you boys don't even have to try."

"We…" _We do work._ Phil wants to say, he wants to believe that it isn't just something he's created in his head, just another lie he's bought into, someone else using him for their own ends. Has he really been that stupid all over again?

"It's a bit silly though," Cat muses, mostly to Tyler, "How easy it's been for them. I mean, once you really know them you realise what a stupid idea it all is. I mean… _I_ would have faked it for a bit with him if he'd wanted. Would have been a bit more believable."

Tyle grins and smacks her lightly on the arm, "You would as well. I'm sure it would have been _such_ a hardship for you both." 

He expects to panic, he expects the gaping hole in his chest to feel like a lead weight, to press on him until he can't breathe, can't think. Instead he feels a hot wash of anger and turns from Tyler and Cat quickly, without even a goodbye. 

There is no easy way out but he manages, bumping and jostling people, earning a few surprised shouts of protest as his clumsy feet take him towards the door, towards an exit from the clawing rise of something huge in his throat. 

He reaches the front door just as the door to the bathroom in the hall opens and he meets Dan's eyes. He face must look stricken, he can feel the rage burning through him but all that comes out of his mouth is a choked off sob. It isn't what he wants to happen, the last thing he intends is to fall apart once again in the face of… this. He wants to feel the same joy and happiness he'd felt earlier at the sight of Dan's brown yes but he doesn't. It all sits like ash under his tongue, promises burned away to nothing. 

"Phil?" Dan has the gall to look surprised. "What's happened? Are you alright?" 

"No," Phil confesses, because despite himself, despite the fizz of livid anger searing through his veins he has no energy at all. He feels like all his strings have been cut and he's drifting without any direction at all. He doesn't have it in him to put up any kind of fight, he just wants to roll over and let the inevitable consume him. "I've been an idiot." 

"What--" 

"Don't." Phil hates how pleading his voice sounds, almost begging. He just prays Dan will have enough mercy on him to not let it drag on, to not get some perverse pleasure out of it now it's all over. "Just… don't." 

Dan shakes his head, takes a step forward before thinking better of it. Phil has his hand gripped around the doorknob and the party noise thuds into the hall. Someone comes in through the far end door, takes one look at them and backs out again with a quick, drunken apology. 

"I actually thought... " Phil starts before giving up, a sigh rattling out of his mouth seemingly without being held in his chest. "Well, that doesn't matter now. I'm through being an idiot. This is done." 

"Phil? Phil what are you… please explain." 

"I don't want to," Phil shakes his head, scrunches his eyebrows together, pulling at the muscles of his eyes so that he can keep the threatening emotions at bay, just for a little longer. Just until he is out in cold night air, alone and adrift, as he always knew it would end Stupid Phil. Stupid for thinking that one night of amber light and soft hands could change everything he'd learned. Stupid, foolish Phil for letting another pretty boy turn his head where he'd always promised himself they wouldn't. "You can ask Tyler and Cat if you really want to. But… Just… Dan you could have been honest with me. I don't know that I'd have agreed… I don't know. Probably not. But you made me think… you made me believe--" 

"You're not making any sense." Dan moves forward and Phil twists his hand around the doorknob so the door swings open. 

"Aren't I? Oh. Well… guess it's a good job I'm going then. Don't follow me Dan, please. Just… let it be. Please, just let it be over." 

He steps sideways out of the door and lets it slam shut behind him with more force than he intends. He still doesn't let himself sink into panic or crying or any of the things that he wants to. He can't find it, the impetus to do any of that. It all feels like something he's watching, something far away and dimmed down. It's a mercy, he thinks, like his mind has run screaming to the hills and let the events of the evening play on a dusty, flickering reel. He closes his eyes and it's there but he can't conjure up enough energy to do anything but let it repeat over and over.

He's half way down the corridor when he hears Dan's voice shouting his name but he ignores it. He's in the taxi when his phone vibrates against his leg, over and over for a call and then a few static seconds for text messages. He reaches into his pocket, only to turn it off. He doesn't want to hear what bullshit excuse Dan has come up with to justify it all. People had known, they'd planned it and discussed how Phil could be used as a means to an end. And that's exactly what he feels like now.

He gets home, gliding through it all with practised motions, as if autopilot has kicked in. It isn't until he's back in his bedsheets, staring at the haphazard chaos of clothing where he'd tried to pick an outfit for the night that he lets it out. The heartbreak, and the fear of what this means, to have gone through it all again. Will he never be safe? Is he doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over until one of them finally destroys him?

He doesn't undress, doesn't tidy up or even pull the duvet all the way down on his bed. He simply slams his head face first into a pillow, breaths hot and hard until his face is humid and sweaty and his lungs hurt, his head swimming. He does it until his breathing slows, until he's dog tired of everything, until his eyes drift shut but he doesn't really sleep. Until everything plays back on that cracked film, edits perfectly placed for the ultimate in self-hatred. Dan next to him at his computer, laughing in the train station, stood behind a camera. On his sofa. Drinking coffee. In the hallway. Kissing him. Bathed in orange, miles of pale skin. Phil believing all of it, trusting him. He dreams he's falling into a deep pit and wakes feeling much the same.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://agingfangirl.twitter.com)
> 
> Thanks to Leblonde for the beta'ing :D

It's three days before he gets a concerned phone call from his mum.

On the first day, he lets the phone ring out, starring as the light it casts falls onto the dark of his bedroom ceiling, the hazy white of it a glowing blur where he hasn't even had the energy to put his glasses on, let alone fathom his contacts. It's isn't healthy, he knows that. He can't avoid it forever, but he knows if he looks over with clear vision he'll see Dan's name on the caller ID and he can't trust himself not to pick it up. On the first day, he waits for the light to stop, for the room to be blanketed once again in darkness, light peering only at the edges of his black-out blinds, before rolling back over into the safety of his sheets. 

The second day no one calls. There are few text messages he can ignore, phone vibrating on the edge of his bedside table so that the motion of it makes it fall, slipping between the edge of it and his bedframe. He leaves it there, having no more use for it that day as he once again sighs into his pillow, closes his eyes and tries to will his brain to sleep. It's not really sleep that finds him, but a strange place between asleep and consciousness. It isn't any better there than when he's awake, but at least it's something different. 

The third day he's on his way back from the bathroom when he hears the phone vibrating again. He mostly just wants it to stop, so he leans over with the dizzy un-coordination of someone who has remained horizontal for the better part of 72 hours, to pick it up from its hiding place. His eyes feel scratchy, like sand has collected in grainy clumps behind his eyelids. He's wrung out, exhausted, though he's done little by way of using any energy recently. 

Through the rawness of his bespectacled eyes he sees his mum's name on the screen and knows he'll have to answer. He takes a breath and is almost all the way through his 'hello' before she's launching in her tirade. 

"Philip Michael Lester," her voice is that kind of stern she gets when he's done something particularly irritating. If he listens hard enough he can hear the concern too, but it's overshadowed by the anger at the moment. "You haven't responded to my text messages in three days, I hope you're not out galavanting all over the place. You didn't tell us you were going to be busy, it's not like you at all--" 

"Mum," he says, his voice croaky in a way that he wishes it wasn't, cracked from disuse. "I'm fine." 

"Are you ill?" her voice is a little softer, gentle, concerned. 

"No," He pauses, "Maybe. Yes? I don't know." 

There is silence on the other end, the steadiness of her breathing ratcheted a little, because he knows this sounds familiar, too familiar. 

"Are you--" she clears her throat, "Do you need… Phil." 

"I'm fine," he decides on. "Everything is fine I'm just… tired." 

"When was the last time you ate something? Are you sleeping? Have you at least had some water? What about your--" 

"Seriously Mum, I'm fine. I'll be fine. I just… I've had a few rough days. It's not like… It's not like before okay? You don't need to worry. Please." 

"I'd feel better if you could visit." 

Phil groans. "I can't." 

He can't because of the effort. Because she can't see him like this. It isn't like before, he refuses to believe it's like before. _He_ knows that, but with how he is _she_ might have a little bit of trouble believing that. He just needs some time. Everything will be okay soon, he just needs some breathing room. 

"Okay, I know you're busy." 

He winces, because he isn't busy at all. He could be, should be, but he's purposefully avoiding any type of responsibility. He hasn't even uploaded or tweeted in three days. That in itself must be starting to look a little odd online. 

"Have you got a friend you could call? That Dan you were talking to so much when you were last here?" 

Phil's stomach sinks, he feels sick. "No." his voice is all in a rush, a little too loud, too quick. 

If his mum notices anything, and she probably does because there is very little she misses when it comes to Phil, she doesn't let on. 

"PJ then?" 

"Maybe." 

"If you can't come here then call PJ. And call me tomorrow. Please Phil, I do worry about you. We both do." 

Her voice is plaintive. Like there is something dangerous and sad waiting for her, or for him, if he doesn't. 

"I'll call." he says, and he endeavours to mean it. 

"Me? Or PJ?" 

"Both," he promises. "I'll call… both." 

"Okay." She's relenting, for now. He hasn't heard the end of it though. 

By the time the phone call is over he's used to being stood up. He's still swimming through a bit of a fog, but he feels like his bones have some movement to them. They are like lead weights, his arms feel heavy and his feet drag as he makes his way to the kitchen, phone swinging in his hand. But he is moving at last.

The water is cold on the way down, glass filled straight from the tap, splashing down his front as he turns it too far. He's damp, a patch of wetness seeping into the front of his shirt, but he swallows mouthful after mouthful, the fresh coolness of it soothing on his throat. It is the first time anything has broken through, poked up through the flatness of the past few days.

He's still avoiding thinking about it all directly. It's too painful, and the phone in his hand feels like a bomb that could go off at any moment. The tiny symbol blinking in the top bar, notifying him that there are messages waiting. Unanswered, unwanted, a threat that could overcome him, make him give in.

He rests his phone on the side of the sink, dangerously close to droplets of water but not close enough to do any damage. That's how he feels, close to danger, but he can pull himself back from the edge if he wants to. If he wants to. 

He gulps down all but a small bit of his water, still in the bottom of the thick pint glass held in his hand. He's staring at his phone, unblinking and terrified, like it might attack given the opportunity, or if he looks away. When there is a knock at his door, he looks away. 

He really doesn't want to answer it, the acidic taste of foreboding in the back of his throat tells him he knows what will be on the other side. But if he's going to try, if he's really going to yank himself back from the precipice he's currently starring in to, if he wants to erase that worrying tone in his mum's voice, he has to answer it. 

He leaves the kitchen. The phone is suddenly the least of his worries. 

Sure enough, when the door opens, heavy in his hand, Dan is standing on the other side. He looks a little ragged around the edges, hair curling, t-shirt askew under his jacket. Phil takes a breath and revels in the moment of silence they allow to linger between them because he knows it won't last long. 

It is moments like this that he's happy his brain goes numb. Into that autopilot that carried him home. Because he can view all of this with a kind of blissful detachment, from behind a screen door fogged over with the heat of his own lethargy. He knows it isn't healthy, to allow himself to drift, he should try to be mindful, to take stock. But when the buzz of his brain gets louder and louder, the ache in his chest, the beat of his heart, the sweat on his palms growing with every passing second, the obvious choice is to allow it to take him away. To sit on the shores, watching the waves of his own anxiety crash against rocks and do nothing about it. 

"You… Phil."

Dan sounds breathless, like he's run over here or like he had no idea what to prepare because he didn't really think Phil would open the door. If you'd asked Phil an hour ago, he probably wouldn't have either. 

"Yes?" 

He doesn't move aside to let him in as he has done hundred of times before. He doesn't gesture for him to enter his home or even offer him a kind smile. He waits, for Dan to get to the point, for him to offer a moment of resolution for this whole mess. Even a token rebuttal of everything Phil heard might be enough. Not for him to believe it, not for Phil to be fooled all over again, just to know what the hell it had all be for. He hadn't been given even that last time, just the perpetuation of more lies upon lies, only this time without his direct involvement and in direct competition with his own knowledge of the truth. He'll do anything to avoid that this time, he hopes Dan can be satisfied with what he got out of it, and that he doesn't feel the need to push it any further. 

"Phil I… can we talk? Please?" 

Phil tightens his grip on the door, half hidden behind it, holding it like a shield in front of himself. The mostly empty glass swings from his other hand, the small dregs of water sloshing in the bottom. He is faintly aware of the wet patch on the front of his shirt, the way his hair must look, the dark circles around his blinking eyes.

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"I don't… What the hell?" Dan takes half a step forward, like he's thinking of storming in past Phil's barricades but he thinks better of it. Stopping when he's half-in half-out of Phil's space. 

Phil blinks as a thudding memory of Dan in another hallway come to mind, at another front door. It seems both so far away and so up close he could touch it. It hurts, it's too much. 

"Please leave." 

It sounds like begging. Because in a way, it is. 

"You don’t get to do this," Dan says, shaking his head, hand reaching out to rest on the door frame, as though Phil might slam the door in his face. There is anger threaded through his words but it isn't the real kind, the hot red type of rage he thinks should be possible in this situation. It's frustration, a pleading kind of want. "You can’t keep running away from everything. I know you’re scared but it doesn’t work like that Phil"

"Please," he says, voice trembling, "Please just...leave"

"Why?" There is steely determination now, alongside the need. Phil doesn't know where to put that, other than to let him stand there, in his doorway, in the wake of it.

"Because," Phil says, pushing back against the hurt, feeling his way through to the things he wants to say. 

"Because what?" 

"Because none of it is real!" 

It rings out. It could echo a little in the quiet of his flat, but it's possible he imagines it. 

"What...what isn't real, Phil?" His brow knits, the line appearing between them stark and sudden. "I don't understand what is happening. Just… please." 

Phil lets his hand drop, lets the door rock forwards ever so slightly, but he doesn't shut it.

"None of it. You and me. It was all for the views, wasn't it?" He shakes his head, letting the fog come down, feeling the hurt seep in like a blade between his ribs, it catches like a bubble of anguish in his throat and he hates it. Swallows, tries to dislodge it but it's there, choking him up and settling in for the long haul. Like it will never be gone again. "You just… I can't believe I-- why, Dan? Just tell me why you had to take it so far. You must know that I… that it wasn't fake to me. How could you?" 

"Where are you getting this?" Dan asks, "Everything was fine. It's not… I'm not. Why would you think that?" 

"It doesn't matter." 

"It does," Dan insists, "something happened at the party? Someone said something? Look, Phil, you know everyone is full of shit at those things. I would never. Please, tell me what part of all of this seems fake to you? It wasn't I… it wasn't." 

"You say I don't get to run away?" Phil asks suddenly, the dam having broken he lets it pour out. Like he never got a chance to before, just lets it take him. The anger and hurt, the betrayal, all of it. Washing over him, taking him down. "You don't get to come here and demand answers. I might not be the best at handling things, hell I might not even be completely stable but for fucks sake I was honest with you. I told you things that I--"

"I told you things too," Dan insists, "Friends, without any of the bullshit, Phil. We agreed." 

"That's what I thought. I bought into all of that but… it wasn't, was it? I was an idiot because there I was happy and finally starting to believe that we could be… well, that we could be whatever we wanted to. But I should have noticed." 

"Should have noticed what?" Dan says, throwing his arms in the air in a gesture that is supposed to suggest that he's at a loss, that he's finally come to the end of any of his understanding. But Phil knows better, because he'd seen it. Hadn't his brain been telling him all along? Those little suspicions. Tyler and Cat just confirmed everything he'd feared. 

"Everything you did was just for the… the views. And the likes. And the followers and the… stupid fucking shippers. You tweet everything and pushed us into the spotlight at every given chance. I should have known, right from the beginning. In the bloody Starbucks when you wanted to take a damn selfie. I should have known." 

Phil is breathing heavily and Dan is looking at him, lips parted eyes narrowed. The rest of his face is slack, loose and uncoordinated.

"I did those things because... " he laughs, it sounds like a sharp bark that cuts through the air between them and Phil wants to dive back behind the door. No, to shut the door altogether and have this over because whatever comes next, whatever follows that hollow callous laugh is sure to rip his heart right out of his chest. "Because I'm still just that stupid kid that's obsessed with you. Not with AmazingPhil or whoever it is you pretend to be online these days, but that weird, vibrant brilliant guy I starting watching so many years ago. The cool, funny, gorgeous, man I've been spending time with these past couple of months. I couldn't believe my damn luck. I wanted to shout to the world that I, me, Dan Howell, some weird awkward dork got to hang out with Phil fucking Lester." 

Phil groans slightly, all of it a tempting vision of everything he wishes were true. But it's way too far in the other direction, it's too perfect to be real. Besides, he thinks, taking a step back and placing the glass onto the table in his hallway, flexing his fist once it's gone, even if it was real he's not that person. He's damaged, and he's always going to be damaged. 

"I tweeted everything because I wanted the world to see how incredible you are. To see you the way I see you. You don't get half as much as you deserve."

Phil turns towards Dan, looking at him fully. He could swear there is true emotion in his eyes and maybe there is, maybe some of what he's saying is true. But the thoughts had been there, a conversation with his friends about what Phil could do for Dan's career. It will never go away, and Phil would be an idiot to fall for that gambit twice. Even if it's different now, if their something has morphed into something else, Phil will always be tainted by what went before. 

"That… I want to believe you. Desperately. But I'm sorry, Dan. I can't."

Nothing is fixed. Nothing is made simpler in his head, he's got no closure like he'd wanted. If anything it's all the more complicated, that genuine expression on Dan's face, the earnest way he'd poured out all those sweet words. Phil longs for them to be true, wonders if he's making a mistake, but ultimately gives in to the rotten, twisted thing in his gut, the snarling beast at the back of his mind that tells him, warns him, that it's just like last time. Logic doesn't win out here. 

"Please just go," he says.

Dan sighs. It's long and he drops his hand from the door frame. "You don't get to do this Phil. Run away. I'm scared too, I'm terrified. But I was happy too, so happy. I know you've got things to work through and I'm okay with that, I want you to. But don't run away, don't shut me out. It's not fair to expect me to wait."

"I'm not asking you to wait," Phil points out. "In fact, I'm telling you not to."

"Alright, if that's what you want."

Phil nods. Decisive. Sure. It's a lot more convincing than the swirl of confusion in his head, but it's for the best. 

Dan sighs once more, offering the tiniest of hopeful smiles. "I hope I speak to you again anyway," he says. 

Phil doesn't answer, just waits for Dan to step away and closes the door behind him.

He stares at the glass on the table, condensation beaded on the outside, leaving a ring of moisture at the base. He stares and stares letting everything roll around in his head. Dan still wants him? He'd been sharing all of that stuff because he was… happy? About Phil? 

He let's Dan's words play over and over again. He stares at the glass and let's the desire for it to be true creep in. Let's it fester in his chest, fluttering like something hopeful weighed down by something mournful and inevitable. 

As it twists and turns he feels his hands shake, reaching out in the final moments to sweep the glass from the table. Watching as it shatters at his feet. He can't do this, he can't deal with it alone. 

He'll keep his promises tomorrow, call PJ and try to sort through all of this mess. For now, he steps over the glass with his bare feet and heads back to bed.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame @Ineverhadmyinternetphase for the fact that this got started because I said if she posted her fic [Missent Text](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815688) that I would write some of this in return. Then @charlottekath made vegan cheese from scratch and put it in a pie with whiskers on it and well… how could I help but be inspired?
> 
> Also I'll level with you, I wanted to finish all of Ships and post it all on Xmas day but the next chapter is proving really difficult so I couldn't get it done. So… you can have this one.
> 
> Also this is completely unbeta'd because I didn't want to disturb my beta at xmas. But... I wanted to give you all a present.

The glass is still there the next morning. He shouldn't have expected it to be gone but there it is. Freaking out tends to do funny things to his brain, like he's viewing them all from a distance or it happened to someone else. 

He doesn't know whether he's grateful for the potentially dangerous reminder that Dan had turned up at his flat, or not.

He keeps his promise early morning, setting the phone to ring on loudspeaker while he tries to clear up shards of glass from a mildly wet floor using the smallest dustpan and brush ever created. 

He narrowly avoids cutting himself, but he does avoid it.

When PJ answers he's reminded that not everyone has taken to bed for a week and are consequently up really early. He's reminded that some people have normal sleep patterns where their thoughts don't keep them up late and wake them early, filled with a jumble of everything, everything, everything and how much of a mess it all is. The world has continued outside of his bubble and that feels unwelcome, somehow.

"Hello?" PJ's voice croaks. 

"Peej," he says, jostling the plastic bag and the brush and the dustpan and all of it threatening to end up back all over the floor anyway.

"What the hell, Phil? It's eight in the morning." 

"I'm er…" He ties the top of the bag and sits fully down on the floor, facing the phone, legs crossed, still talking into the loudspeaker because it's nice to have noise in his flat. Sort of. "Calling." 

"I know that."

"No I mean… you know. Calling. I need…"

He hears the rustle of bedsheets and he feels, for a moment, that sinking sensation of guilt that always comes when he's burdening someone with all of his mess. When he's this close to letting it spill over he feels the urge to build that wall back up, to keep everyone at arm's length for their own good. But this will never be solved if he does, and he needs to somehow sort out the jumble of thoughts and confusion and mistakes he's made over the past few days. Besides, he'd made a promise. And on this occasion that's enough to make him take action. Once upon a time it might not have been. 

He's acutely aware that may mean he's gotten better, that he's somehow stronger than last time but he doesn't exactly want to test that theory. 

What is it they said? There's strength in asking for help, too.

"I'm here," PJ says, louder, clearer, like he's stepped into a different room. Gotten out of bed probably. 

Phil sighs, picks up the phone. He's still on the floor, legs crossed in the middle of his hallway but he turns off the loudspeaker and presses the phone to his ear. 

"I don't know how to… ugh. This is so stupid honestly."

"What happened?" 

Phil doesn't know where to start, the words spin away from him. How does he explain the horrible sinking feeling he'd felt when Cat and Tyler said what they said, the drag of fear when Dan had turned up at his door. How does he describe the suspended hope of something. Something. It's carved out of the solid weight of his uncertainty. He wants to believe, can feel where the belief would fit in his chest, but it hurts. It lays heavy, thick, weighted and uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to carry hope, it's nothing like he's used to. 

He can't even find the words to confess that he's been hiding for a week. 

"I haven't been in touch lately," PJ says, his voice is kind of muffled as if from behind his fingers and Phil can imagine the guilty expression on his face, like him texting could have at all prevented whatever the hell it is Phil is going through.

"I… it wouldn't have… mattered. If you had. I'm--" 

He stops, because he's so lost in it all he couldn't even define what he was. What word exists for this? Sad? Confused? Hopeless? Nothing feels right, maybe it's all of that, or none of it. Explaining it has always been the hard part. Feeling it… feeling this way has never been difficult. He manages that with ease.

"Coffee," PJ decides for him, not waiting anywhere near long enough for Phil to come up with right words. "I can come there." 

"I need to go outside," Phil says, staring forlornly at the tied up bag of glass, hazard now contained but not yet disposed of. 

He doesn't want to go outside. He wants to stay where it's safe and familiar but, coping mechanisms aren't always productive.

"We can do that, Starbucks?"

Phil thinks of Dan pressed up close to him on a couch, thigh pressed to thigh in a steam cloud of caramel-flavoured caffeine. "No, um, the other place? The one with the crappy sandwiches?" 

"I know which one you mean," PJ says, "I can be there in an hour?"

"Yes. Please."

Something on his voice must sound desperate because PJ is quick to follow it up with a, "Everything will be okay. I'll be there soon."

Phil is the one to hang up once they've said goodbye, like PJ is afraid to terminate the call if Phil still needs him. Phil suspects PJ would stay on the phone with him the full hour it takes them to get ready to meet in person if needs be. He's a good friend like that.

-

He doesn't get his usual order when he gets there. He picks a plain coffee and adds a little milk and sugar and huddles in a corner seat until PJ gets there. He's flushed a little red when he does get here, like he's run all the way and Phil is mildly guilty that he's messed up his day already. 

"Hey," PJ says, coming straight to the table before ordering his drink.

"Hey."

PJ is hovering. He's doing that thing where he really wants to ask if Phil is okay but he knows that might be the worst question in the world to ask right now. Phil knows it isn't fair, he hates doing this to people because he can't expect them to act in all the right ways. But PJ has always tried so hard, and everything he does is with the best intentions but all the expression on his face is doing is making Phil's stomach twist up more and more with the overwhelming shame of having to go through this time and time again. 

"I'm okay," Phil says, answering before PJ asks because he can at least offer him that, "Go get coffee." 

PJ looks a little uncertain for a second but he does drop his bag, turn around and go to get coffee. 

Phil busies himself with his phone but he can feel PJ staring him out of the corner of his eye, tracking him even as he waits for his coffee to be made. 

Once he's back in the seat opposite him, Phil has to put down his phone and look at him directly. 

"What happened this morning?" PJ asks.

"Not this morning," Phil says, clearing his throat. "It was… ah… a few days ago." 

PJ nods curtly but his eyes narrow. "You didn't call a few days ago." 

"No."

"Have you spoken to anyone since then?" 

Phil shakes his head. 

PJ sighs, like he wants to say something more. Admonish Phil maybe, insist that he should have called? He knows it isn't that easy. 

"So what happened a few days ago?"

"Um…" 

Phil takes a sip of his coffee and is surprised to find his hands are shaking slightly. 

"It's okay," PJ says, "Take your time." 

Take his time. Phil is always taking his time and stumbling over everything and he really needs to get out of the habit of running away all the time. He'd called PJ, hadn't he? He'd been the one to ask for this meeting, because he knows he needs help sometimes. He needs to learn how to ask for it better, and how to accept it when it's being offered. 

"I went to a party with Dan." 

"What did he do?"

PJ looks mad. He's put his mug back down on the table and he's sat straight up, poised for action, as though he would spring right over to Dan's flat and give him hell if Phil so much as implied he'd done anything wrong. 

"He didn't… well, I'm not sure if he… it might all be in my head. Or it might not. It might all be completely true." 

"Okay… what might?" 

Phil shuffles down in his seat, his shoulders shrugged almost up to his ears, trying to make himself smaller. He wants to block all of this out but it isn't helping, hasn't helped so far, so he might as well give this a try. 

"Some people at the party implied that Dan… that he was only... f-friends with me to boost his YouTube career." 

"Friends?" 

Phil looks down into his coffee and watches the light glint off the still top of it. It ripples as PJ leans forward in his seat and bangs the table. 

"Phil… did you… are you and Dan…" 

Phil nods his head, still not looking at him. "We… after the Google thing. I... " 

PJ doesn't say anything. Maybe he has no words for how stupid Phil has been, or maybe he's just letting Phil find his own way around all of this. Either way, Phil has to look up at him finally to try and navigate the conversation. 

"It was… Peej it wasn't like, well it wasn't like anything else. I know, I know, I don't want to go into detail, I know you don't want to hear it but… it had me believing it. It was different. It was… good." 

It was good. The rarity of it, how special it had felt, like it wasn't something thrown away, not just a singular moment in time they'd both forget afterwards. It was something else. But then it wasn't.

"But then afterwards?" 

"Then there was the party and people saying things and… I just don't know what to believe. How can I trust anything he says?" 

"You just have to look at everything, Phil. You can't judge it based on this one tiny incident… I know I was cautious too. I didn't want to see you get hurt."

Phil remembers. He remembers how unsure PJ had been when they'd played games at his house, how he'd looked scared and unsure on Phil's behalf when they'd left Google.

"But it wasn't because I thought Dan wasn't serious." he continues, "It was only because I thought… well, I didn't know if you'd want to be in another… situation with a YouTuber." 

Phil bites down on his bottom lip hard, leaving teeth prints in it. 

"I thought so too… I mean, I don't want to be. I don't." Phil shakes his head, "at least I don't think so." 

"Phil." 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you… honestly now… do you really think Dan is faking all of that? Could he have? After everything you've told me…And well, after everything he's been out there doing… doesn't that prove something to you?" 

Phil doesn't know. Nothing makes sense any more. He wants PJ to tell him want to do, to give him the answer to every question that he has but he knows that's not how it works. 

"He came to my house yesterday." 

PJ nods, "He did? What did he want?"

"Mostly to tell me off, maybe. But I also accused him of everything. He denied it of course. He said the reason he tweets and stuff so much is because… well, not for the reason I thought." 

"You were mad at him about the tweeting?" 

Phil nods, "Yeah. I think… well it's one of the main reasons why I'm inclined to believe he's full of shit." 

PJ frowns. He looks so confused, lines appears on his forehead, but Phil really doesn't understand why. 

"You know," he clarifies, "He tweets whenever we do anything and he's always replying to people and… did you know there's a ship name now? It's ridiculous. It's just Phan. It doesn't even work out loud, like you have to write it down." 

"But…" 

"No, I know." Phil says, "That doesn't prove anything. But I guess I just thought that he was showing off, using my name for views." 

"For views?" PJ says, that perplexed look still on his face, skin between his brows all bunched up. "But… Phil, what he's been doing on Twitter isn't helping him any. If anything, there are some people who think responding to all of Charlie's drama actually makes him look really petty." 

Phil's coffee sloshes over the side of his cup as he sits up quickly, shuffling to the edge of his seat and bumping the table in the process. There is a small creeping puddle of coffee on the wooden table top, seeping towards the edge of it, threatening to drip onto his jeans. 

"What Charlie drama?" 

PJ brushes his hair out of his face. It's a little wild this morning, a huge mass of waves sitting fluffy and huge around his face. It's always a little crazy but he's been in a rush this morning, Phil knows, so it is quite untamed. 

"You… oh God." 

"What?" 

"You really don't know." 

"Peej… what the hell are you talking about?" 

The coffee puddle has spread and Phil has to lean over, pluck the haphazard pile of napkins from this coffee tray and swipe the edge of the table. All the while, PJ is sat with his mouth parted, tongue rolled forward to his front teeth as if trying to find the words to say.

"Jesus Phil, I mean I don't know if I should be the one to… if you don't know." 

"Tell me!" Phil says, his voice a little louder than he intends so that the people at the next table look up at him. He shoots them an apologetic look and lowers his voice, "please. Look… just tell me what's going on. I'm so confused. I need to make sense of it all and if you know something--" 

"Ok, ok." PJ rubs the back of his neck with one hand, "Let me just… I need to figure out where to start." 

"Okay." 

Phil sits back in his chair, takes his mug with him so that it is cradled between his hands. 

"Do you have Charlie blocked on Twitter?"

That comes out of nowhere. Phil hasn't thought about that in a while but he remembers sitting on his hospital bed, bag packed and finally back in his own clothes. He remembers staring at his phone as he waited for his parents to get there and deciding to finally put an end to it, resolving to start over. 

"Yes." 

"Okay. Good. I mean… That'll be why you haven't…" he sighs, "I guess I just thought Dan might have mentioned it." 

Phil feels his palms go sweaty around the cup. He isn't sure if it's the heat of the ceramic or the mention of Charlie's name and the inference that he's back in his life, causing trouble. 

"Mentioned what?" 

He feels sick. The bottom of his stomach drops out and it's like he's dangling over a precipice, seconds away from disaster. 

"Right." PJ picks up his cup, blows out over the top of it to cool it slightly, but he doesn't take a sip. "Charlie has been on Twitter. I guess he saw interactions between you and Dan and… well, he's been…" 

PJ trails off and instead digs his phone out of this pocket. He taps around on it for a while before passing it over to Phil. Phil puts down his cup, wraps his fingers around PJ's phone and brings it close to his face. 

He can barely look at first. Just a glimpse of that familiar username and a slightly updated profile picture is enough to make his chest feel tight and his breathing snag in his chest. He has to do this, he needs to see. 

**danisnotonfire:** OMG senpai noticed me?!?!

**Charlieskies:** @danisnotonfire don't waste your time

Right from the beginning. It's all the way back to the beginning, to the point where Phil first engaged with Dan on Twitter. 

He can't breathe, it's too much. But he can't stop, his thumb moves up the screen, scrolling down to see more and more, every time they've interacted, every time they mentioned each other, he's there.

**danisnotonfire:** #phanimalfacts is trending @AmazingPhil what have we done?

**Charlieskies:** @danisnotonfire good luck, we all know he likes to hide everything, don't be surprised if it doesn't last long

Charlie is still up to his old lies, still touting that old story out. How long has this been going on? Is it just Dan, or does he still drag it all out at regular intervals? Phil can't escape it. He's tried. 

He wanted to start over, to put all of this behind him, to stop it all in its tracks. That's why he'd blocked Charlie in the first place. 

But it hasn't had any effect at all. Charlie is still out there, never letting it die, never letting him be free of it.

**danisnotonfire:** your fave nerdy british boys met irl finally are you hyped? @AmazingPhil

**Charlieskies:** @danisnotonfire seriously, get out while you still can, he's not a nice person

He'd warned him off. Phil closes his eyes for a second before reading onwards, he can't do this. He doesn't want to see it.

But his thumb moves up anyway, and soon, it isn't just Charlie tweeting at Dan.

**danisnotonfire:** @AmazingPhil tweeting is not resting dont make me confiscate your phone

**Charlieskies:** @danisnotonfire did he tell you how I used to take care of him when he was ill?

**danisnotonfire:** what is it you are getting out of this exactly?

He hadn't sent it while he was with Phil. It was afterwards, when he went home. 

**Charlieskies:** just looking out for you mate, you should learn from my experience. I know what he's like

**danisnotonfire:** jealousy doesn't become you

**danisnotonfire:** and I'm not your mate

**Charlieskies:** no need to be hostile

**danisnotonfire:** you haven't seen hostility yet i care about him so if you carry on i'll show you hostile

Phil lets the phone fall to the table. It clatters on the wood and he drops his forehead into his palms. They are warm, slightly clammy, he sucks in a breath and tries to steady himself. 

There's more, Dan fighting his corner, telling Charlie to stop. Phil can't look at any more 

"He's been…" 

"Yeah."

"And Dan…" 

"Hm." 

"Shit." 

If PJ is surprised by the language he doesn't let on. Phil drags his fingers down his face and looks up. 

"Why?"

PJ shrugs. "I don't know. But… Well, he wouldn't be doing all of this if… if any of what you're so scared of was true."

Phil looks at it from that angle. It's true. Dan going off on Twitter isn't doing him any favours so why is he doing it? What would be the point? Unless…

"You think he's being genuine."

"I've only met the guy a few times, so I'm not going to sit here and tell you that he definitely is. But Phil… the way he looks at you. The way you are with each other. That's not fake."

Phil looks down at the phone again, screen faded to black. He slides it back over the table. He's seen enough. 

"And he knows about... " he swallows. "Charlie."

PJ cocks his head. "He's been there since the beginning Phil. He's watched your channel and commented on everything you've ever done. Did you think he missed it?"

"No… just… he's never said anything. About… well like everyone had an opinion on it didn't they? Whether they believed him. Dan has never said…"

"Do you think he would? If you didn't bring it up?"

"I don't know."

He thinks about them sharing secrets. He think about Dan coming out and Phil telling him about his anxiety. He hasn't shared everything. Not even close. But Dan has never pushed him to, not once.

PJ picks up the phone and slides it back in to his pocket. "I think he cares about you Phil. I think he saw it all and he cares about you anyway. But maybe you owe him the bigger story… the bits everyone didn't see."

Phil shakes his head automatically because part of his whole starting over routine was vowing never to talk about it. He's made that final pact with himself to stay closed off from it all, to shove it all down and try and pretend it didn't happen. It was the only way he could move on. 

But that isn't working any more. Still, the idea of telling Dan everything… it's scary.

"I need to talk to him, huh?"

"Yeah… I think you do."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the final chapter. The story is pretty much wrapped up but I'm going to do a final epilogue-type one-shot with a little smut and some general fluffy bits set a little ways in the future to follow this, but if that isn't your thing you don't need to read it in order to get the story. It won't have any more like 'plot' points. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me, thank you for voting for this in the 'Universe Augmentation' Phanfic Award 2017 that it won!! 
> 
> Come say hi on [Tubmlr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) if you like this story, and I hope you like my other fics too.

He rings his mum on the way back. He feels more awake than he has done for a while and he still has all of the Charlie stuff in his head which means there are now so many things he needs to do, so many things he needs to face up to that he might not be ready for. The least he can do is keep his promise to call. 

"Child," she says, customarily. 

"Hi mum."

"You sound like you're outside, are you outside?" 

"I'm on my way back from seeing PJ," he says, "I told you I would." 

There's a clinking sound on the other end and he can imagine her sat at their kitchen table with a warm mug in her hands. He suddenly has a pang of homesickness he wasn't ready for. At times like these it would be nice to have his mum, to give her a hug and make everything else go away like he had when he was little. But his mum can't fight his battles for him anymore, she can't stand up against the demons in his own head, only he can do that. 

"Oh Phil. I'm glad."

He hums into the phone and pauses at the top of the stairs to the underground because he'll lose signal if he goes down.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" She asks. Always so careful, always tiptoeing around the conversation. He hates that she needs to do that. 

He sighs, mostly to himself. 

"It's… complicated."

"Of course it is. I wouldn't expect you to get mixed up over something that wasn't. I know you have… you feel things strongly, but you're not one for getting worked up over nothing."

He bites his bottom lip because that makes something heavy rise in his throat. 

"Thanks mum."

"Are you sure you don't want to come home?" 

"No… no I think I need to talk to… well, to Dan." 

"Dan."

"Yes."

"I see…" she pauses, just for a second, but he hears it. "Well it's good you have a friend." 

"Mum." 

She knows better than that. She must. But she's giving him room for denial, which is nice. But also another one of those things he wishes she didn't have to do. 

She hums down the phone. "I know love, just… be careful." 

"I am."

Be careful he isn't the same. Be careful you don't react the same way. Be careful. Be careful. He's been careful, perhaps too careful given how things have worked out. Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith. Like replying to a tweet, or grabbing a coffee, or saying yes to a project. If he doesn't, if he keeps playing it safe and secluded over and over he'll look back and he and Dan will have passed by each other. Like ships that pass in the night he will be merely a story of something that once happened to Phil a long time ago. And Phil isn't sure he wants go settle for that anymore. 

"I've got to go," he says, "I…"

"Do what you have to, love." 

He says goodbye and finally hangs up. He heads into the underground, shoulders squared and feeling lighter than he has in days. He has hope, buoyant and beautiful hope.

-

The idea comes to him when he's finally checking his emails. There's one from a radio producer at the BBC finalising his booking to appear on the radio show. Dan's radio show. 

It isn't ideal, and of course he doesn't expect everything to be fixed at Dan's workplace but it's a first step. A show of willing.

He responds with his confirmation and that's that.

-

The BBC building is all glass. It reflects the sun and the revolving door moves too fast so that he almost gets stuck in it but the lobby is cool and echoing and the visitor badge around his neck makes him feel a little important. 

He's amazed that the nerves don't get to him until he's in the lift. He's been riding the adrenaline before this, but it wears out once he follows the girl with the short spiky ponytail down the corridor. They go through a room filled with mismatched sofas and then a sound room with amps he recognises as the live lounge and then they're there. In front of a desk that has hundreds of buttons and dials and lights, engineers in headphones moving them in unison and then--

Dan. On the other side. Head dipped low over his laptop, fringe swinging into his eyes. It takes everything in Phil not to rush through the people, pole vault over the complicated desk, stand amidst the strange array of drawings and posters and celebrity face masks and say-- what? 

Something Phil. Think. How has he got this far without knowing what he's going to say? 

"Howell," the woman is saying. "Your guest is here." 

Dan looks up, slightly confused for a second before their eyes lock. Phil sees the back of his jaw clench, the way his lips purse slightly throwing an annoyed dimple into relief on his cheek.

"Thanks Ros," he says. "I've got it."

Dan comes around the desk. Expertly dodging cables Phil knows he's going to trip on and finally they're face to face. He doesn't look mad, he doesn't look much of anything. His face, the one Phil has grown to know so well, is shockingly blank. 

"I didn't think you'd come," Dan says. 

"I... " Phil starts, but he still has no idea what to say. 

"Come on," Dan says, moving past him but making sure they don't touch. Phil aches. "We've got a half hour, I know where we can get… snacks."

He doesn't say coffee. Phil doesn't get coffee with Dan anymore. That makes him much sadder than it has any right to for something so small.

If he's going to feel this way about anything it should be the way Dan avoids his eyes, or how they walk with a considerable distance between them in the corridors. How everything is different. How much he misses how it used to be. How he doesn't know how to bring up everything that's happened. Where does he even start? 

Dan brings them to a vending machine tucked into the corner of a dim grey room, a sofa shoved against a wall and a table with music magazines spread on top of it. There's a coffee machine and a sink but the room looks less polished and modern than the rest of the building. 

Dan faces the vending machine and looks at it with a knot in the middle of his brows. His eyes are hard and Phil thinks that the expression is probably for him, rather than the snacks within. 

"So… how have you been?" 

Dan cocks his head and doesn't meet his eyes. "Fine." 

"Good. That's… good. 

Phil swallows and feels his tongue thick and cumbersome in his mouth, he can barely speak around how dry his lips feel, how alien the sounds fit behind his teeth. 

"I didn't think you'd come," Dan says.

He sounds sad. Phil hates that he sounds sad. 

"I… wanted to." it's all he can think to say. "I wanted to talk to you." 

"Ha!"

"What?" 

"Now you want to talk?" Dan turns, shifting on his heel until he's facing Phil. He looks mad. "You don't just get to pick and choose when you want to talk to me and when you don't. I deserve better than that." 

Phil looks down at his shoes, fighting the urge to run away and escape the conversation. He needs to stay, he needs to get some of this out or it will eat at him. 

"I know," he says to his Vans, "You do. I just… I didn't--" 

He stops, because despite everything he still doesn't know where to start. 

Dan sighs and Phil can hear the frustration in it. 

"I spoke to Tyler. And Cat. They told me what they said…" 

Phil looks up and Dan is staring at him hard. 

"You know it's all bullshit, right? They said some shit to me about you ages ago, when I wouldn't stop going on about you." Dan looks sheepish at this. "It was just some dumb joke about hooking up with you for views and… honestly, it never really crossed my mind afterwards. I forgot they even said it once I actually... I should have told them to fuck off when they said it but it was so ludicrous to me that I would even _meet_ you that I… you know… just forgot." 

Phil nods, quick and jerky.

"Okay, yeah, I'm stupid I didn't… I'm not sure I ever really…" he lets his shoulders drop from where they've been drawn up, letting the relief flood through him.

He'd pretty much decided that in light of everything that Dan has said to Charlie, how he defended him to his own detriment, that even if Dan had started out wanting to spend time with him for some sort of popularity gain, his feelings must have changed a little. Despite that, it's still nice to hear Dan say out loud that it wasn't like that at all. And Phil can let himself believe it, for once. 

"You were right," he says finally, "I was just scared. I don't think I ever really believed it." 

Dan bites his bottom lip, chewing a bit on it, the pink flesh turning white. "Last time we spoke you were convinced. What changed your mind, Phil? Why are you here?" 

 

Phil blows out air, makes space for what comes next in his body, like deflating. 

"I think I owe you an explanation. For… well, for everything." 

Dan's brows lift a little at that, like he's surprised. 

"I know," Phil says, forcing a bit of a laugh overtop of his awkwardness, "I don't… I'm not good at doing that. But I want to be… when it comes to you. With you I want to be better." 

Dan nods, just once and then beckons him to follow as he makes his way over to the small, beat up couch. He flops down onto it and Phil follows suit, perching on the opposite cushion, suspended and uncomfortable. 

"Take your time," Dan says, with far more patience than he has any right to have at this moment. 

Phil shakes his head, he had no idea how Dan is like this, how he isn't screaming at Phil to just get on with it. But there he is, all restrained and not pushing him, sitting, waiting, calm and collected. It makes everything crazily zipping around Phil's chest calm, like a flock of birds haphazardly flapping come to a stop, settling in rows. 

"So… PJ showed me… um, the things. On Twitter." 

"On Twitter?" 

Phil nods a little. "Hm, Ch-charlie. The… stuff he's been saying." 

"Oh." Dan's mouth purses a little, going tight at the corners. His nostril flare, just ever so slightly. He doesn't look happy. "I didn't realise you didn't know about that." 

"I blocked him ages ago." 

Phil puts one hand in the other in his lap, squeezing fingers around his palm. He fidgets, nervously. This is difficult, moreso than he'd thought it would be.

"I… I'm not used to talking about this," he says, "I haven't. Not since…" 

Dan reaches over and Phil watches his slide his fingers overtop of his, stilling them where he's squeezing over and over. Phil marvels at him, he has every right to stay mad at him, but here he is offering comfort like he always does. 

"You don't have to," he whispers.

"I do," Phil insists, not knowing what to do with all of Dan's wonderful patience. "I do. I... "

Phil shifts, turns in his seat until his body is angled towards Dan's. Dan doesn't move his hand, just slips his fingers between Phil's so that they're holding hands. It's a small thing, but it's enough to ground him.

"I had anxiety issues long before I met him," he starts, "I won't credit him with being the be-all-and-end-all of my issues. He doesn't get to claim that."

Dan swipes his thumb over Phil's knuckles. Phil looks down, stunned by the small gesture against his skin, focussing on that instead of on the way his hand is shaking under Dan's palm. 

"But I thought I’d found someone who loved me in spite of those issues," Phil croaks, his voice cracking over the words, caught around something in his throat pushing upwards."I thought… It's so stupid, I thought he realised they were a part of me and loved me anyway. But… that's not… he didn't. It's too much. I can understand why." 

"I can't," Dan says, "I can't understand that at all. You are not your issues, Phil, but they are a part of who you are. You don't need to be loved in spite of them, you should be loved because of them, including them, because you feel things deeply doesn't mean you're damaged." 

Phil looks up, into Dan's serious, sincere expression and he wants to tell him just how much that means, what it is to have someone like Dan telling him these things. How desperately he wants to believe them but how that tiny voice in his head reminds him that they can't possibly be true, or that Dan means them now but won't once he finally sees… once he knows the full extent. 

"I think if I’d had someone say that back then… Or had someone who asked me how I am before going into parties or acknowledging when my head gets loud… things might have ended up differently."

"I wish I'd known you then." 

Phil closes his eyes and concentrates on Dan's thumb going back and forth over his hand. 

"Me too."

"I did…" Dan says, "A bit. I was… well, I was watching your videos at least." 

Phil sighs, a little groan escaping him as he thinks of what Dan must have seen, of how it all went down out there in public. How can Dan be sat here now if he saw everything?

"You…" 

"I'd like to hear your side of it," Dan says, guessing what it is that is tormenting him. "I never… there was always more to it."

"There was." Phil's voice is tiny, shoved inside of him in that place where he keeps everything. It's cracking open, like something pressured finally released. "He played my insecurities. He… He knew. I told him what I felt like sometimes and he used that to keep me secluded and in the dark about everything that was going on. He said he was trying to push me, to get me to face up to things, but he just didn’t care."

"He was always so... " 

"Public," Phil supplies. "Everything was out in the open, and I was just never… comfortable with that. I want to keep it between us, it was personal, you know? Our relationship. But he was so intent on...parading it everywhere." 

"I think we all know why." 

Phil nods. "Exactly. He used me, Dan. He put our relationship everywhere so that he could be associated with me. I wasn't even… I didn't have like, _loads_ of subscribers then but… YouTube was different. I knew alot of people, we were friends… Charlie never really fit in with all of that. I think there are some people that just shouldn't be online, like in the public space… he's one of them. But he wanted it so much, more than anything else, and he used me to... to…" 

Dan slides a little, shuffling up next to him, pressing their hips together. Their hands are still clasped but he's close now. So close Phil can smell the scent of his cologne. 

"I just wanted to keep it private," Phil says again, "I didn't know… I was confused. About like, boys and not being straight and navigating the whole… comment section wanting to know my business. You know? But he… he didn't want that." 

"Phil…" 

"He wanted me to be different," Phil says, his voice a little thick but he's holding on. The warmth from Dan is helping, the rhythmic back and forth of his thumb on his knuckles and the press of his body against his side. This is comfort. This is what he's needed. It hurts, to let it out, to put forth something he's been keeping hidden for all this time. Fear that he wouldn't be understood. "When I didn't want to go along with it, when I had… bad days He thought I could just snap out of it and when I couldn’t he decided I wasn’t worth it, even if it did mean good things for his channel. In the end… he got what he wanted and then moved on." 

"I remember… it was just as I started YouTube," Dan says, "I'd been tweeting you alot by then." 

Phil nods. "I know that now. I wish… God I wish it had been different. That I'd have seen that or something. But… there was a lot of other stuff going on. I might have seen it, I like to think I'd have seen it. If... you know, everything else hadn't been happening" 

"You split up with him." 

"Did I?" Phil asks, "That definitely the way he tells it. He spun the story of the victim, like I’d strung him along and was some pompous stuck up big youtuber that hated everyone. He made out like he was the one that had wanted to keep it quiet, but that I'd wanted to… that I made him put it all out in the open. I can't even remember anymore, whether it was me or him. I like to think I did do it, that I did finally break free… but I don't really know." 

Phil runs a hand through his hair, dragged his fingers out from between Dan's and standing up. He paces, back and forth in front of the couch, needing to move, to work of some of the rising shake he can feel. It rattles in his chest, his heart beating, pulse pounding in his ears. 

"He honestly made it seem like he was the victim, the things he said… the… it was... " he breath in, quick and hard and he squeezes his eyes shuts because he's starting to panic. He can feel it. He has to do this, he has to push through. 

Dan rises to his feet, catches his as he walks by, pulling and tugging until Phil is cradled against his chest. His face buried in Dan's shoulder, Dan's large hand smoothing up and down his back. 

He feels pathetic. It's just a breakup, something people go through every day. But he knows that his anxiety means his reacts differently, he's heard people tell him time and time again that his reaction is valid. Because Charlie had essentially fucked with his entire career, his whole life, all of his friends. So many of them believed him, he lost a lot of people. But it's hard for Phil to rationalise that when he's feeling small and silly and like he's overacting even though he can't help the way his breath comes in spurts, all bound up in his lungs, sporadic and laboured. 

"It's okay…" he says, low in his ear. "I've got you. I know… I saw… it's okay. It's over."

"It was easier to go along with it," Phil sobs, "because then at least I wouldn’t get hurt. At least then… by then I just wanted it over. I didn't want YouTube or anything. It was a really… a really…" 

"Shhh," Dan soothes. He flutters a hand to Phil's cheek, lifting to press their foreheads together. "It's okay."

"It was a bad time. I… didn't come out of it very well."

"You disappeared," Dan says. "For a little while."

Phil reaches out, folds his arms around Dan's waist and pulls him close, liking the nearness of him, the familiar shape of him, when he feels like this. His heartbeat is slowing, a little, bit by bit. 

"I wanted to quit completely. Some stuff… happened."

"Do you want to…" 

"Yes," Phil insists. "I want to tell you all of it. I don't want anything… all of it. I need you to know." 

Dan pauses, runs his thumb across Phil's cheekbone. "Can I kiss you? I want to… but not if you're… I don't want to make it worse." 

Phil nods, leans forward, bring their mouths together. It's fleeting, a tiny fluttery thing across Phil's lips. He feels himself reset a little. Dan isn't magic, he can't kiss away Phil's panic attack but it does give Phil something to focus on, and it's reassuring to know that Dan is still here. After all of this, after hearing most of it, he's still here.

"When you're ready," Dan says. 

"I just… it was stupid. It sounds a lot worse than it was." He pulls away a little bit, needing space to tell his story. Dan lets him go. "I just had some bad days right after. I tried to stay off Twitter and away from what everyone was saying but… it was harder than I thought it would be. I just… went to bed. Honestly, that's all it was I was just so tired of everything, it felt like the world was too bright and too loud and wherever I went there was just… noise. People attacking me. So I went to bed. For about a week." 

Dan nods, clearly a little perplexed. 

"I didn't eat," Phil clarifies, "I barely drank water I got… I went to bed but I didn't sleep. I was dehydrated and exhausted and having a kind of extended panic attack. Eventually my parents got too worried and ended up taking me to A & E. I guess I was pretty out of it because they admitted me, just a for a little bit while they gave me some fluids and stuff. I wasn't like… crazy or suicidal or… you know, I was… lucky. But it wasn't… good." 

"Phil…" Dan says, reaching for him again before deciding not to. "Sorry. God, I'm so sorry that happened to you… I… it's so stupid but I wish I'd been around to… Have you been… since we… I mean... " 

"A bit," Phil nods. He isn't going to lie to Dan now. "But I have… while I was at the hospital they had people I talked to. I learned, some stuff. I'm not always the best at remembering but I have… like PJ and my mum and stuff. They know. So they're good about…" 

"Would… Could I…" Dan tips his head a little to the side, "I want to help. I want to be there for you like that." 

"You're already really great at it," Phil says, "You don't need to do any more than you already do. I don't want to be like a… full time job for people. I don't want you to be... "

"I want to," Dan says, simply. 

Phil just looks at him for a moment, shaking his head. "Where did you come from Dan Howell?" 

Dan smiles, a bit, Phil watches it unfolding on his face the way that it does, lighting it up until he's glowing. 

"Nowhere special."

Phil can't believe that.

"I was… after the hospital I had all these systems in place to function. They weren't the healthiest and I'm sure the people I talked to there wouldn't have recommended them as they mostly entailed keeping everyone and everything at arm's length but… it meant I could rejoin the world a little bit. I could exist in it anyway. I could make videos and talk to my audience, as long as it was all on my terms, as long as I didn't interact too much." 

Phil shrugs a tiny smile of his own appearing. He feels a little lighter, and his heart rate is back to normal. He can feel it all like a weight lifted off his chest, he can breathe again. 

"Then you came along. And… I couldn't… I tried. God, I tried. But you were something else, Dan. I couldn't help myself. It just got, messy. Because I didn't… I still don't… know how to deal with all of this like a grown up. I'm not… equipped to deal with how I feel about you." 

"And how do you feel about me?" Dan asks. 

"Dan…" 

"It was real, Phil. I don't care what Charlie says, or what the stupid voice in your head has to say. It was real." 

"I know. I was happy." 

"Me too. You have no idea how happy I was. Can't we just be happy, Phil? Please?" 

He wishes it were that simple. He wishes they could just draw a line under everything and go back to how things were before, but it would never be that easy. It can't be. 

"There will always be Twitter, and viewers, and people shipping. I'm never going to want to put it all out there, I'm always going to want to… hide." 

Dan shakes his head and for a terrifying moment Phil knows that this is it, this is the moment that Dan walks away. He wouldn't blame him. 

"Phil, I'll never fucking Tweet again if that's what you want. You think any of that matters to me more than you do?" 

"Don't be absurd." 

"Okay, okay. That's extreme… but the sentiment is the same. Phil… I don't want people all up in my business either. If you don't want me to mention you at all, or if as far as the world is concerned we're just best friends, then that's fine with me. I mean, if that was all you actually ever wanted from me, I'd be fine with that too. I just care about you. Alot. I don't want to lose you." 

"I don't want to lose you either," Phil says, "And I don't want you to have to like, lie. I just… If we were going to… I want to keep it to us."

"I understand that, and I… I never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." 

"I'm probably never going to be okay," Phil warns, "I'll always be… like this." 

"Phil," Dan moves towards him, folding his arms around Phil's waist and pulling him close once again. He's been in and out of Dan's space today but he slides his hands up Dan's arms, over the curve of his bicep and on to his shoulders. He feels settled here, safe. "I don't want you to be anyone you're not. I only… I mean, I just hope that you talk to me. Just… I want to be there for you." 

"And if it gets too much for you?" 

Dan shakes his head. "I promise I'll talk to you too. I'll tell you when I need space, and you tell me when you need help, or you need space too. Can… I don't want to push you. I really want this to work. But I think… it'll probably only work if we actually talk to each other about this stuff. Not talking is what got us in trouble in the first place. Can you do that? Do you think it's… is that okay?" 

It's scary. The prospect of staying this open. Of leaving this place and not closing down that piece of him again, not crawling in to his bed and saying goodbye to world, but remaining a part of it. This is what it means, to care for someone the way he does Dan, to let them in, to be vulnerable. Dan's eyes are warm and they don't demand an answer, Phil knows he could step out of Dan's arms right now and Dan would let him go. He doesn't want to. 

"It's okay,I can do that." Phil says. "You know… no one has wanted me for me before." 

"I do," Dan say. 

"Yeah," Phil nods, "I think… I know. I believe it." 

He huffs out a laugh, incredulous at himself. He does. He really believes it. 

"I want you too," he says to Dan. "Let's just be happy."

"Okay," Dan smiles and leans in, only half way, waiting for Phil. "Let's be happy."

Phil lets the world shift a bit to accommodate the new way of things, feels the himself smile and lean in, meeting him in the middle.

Dan's lips are soft and welcoming. Phil sighs into his mouth and Dan lets his tongue flick out against the join of his lips. He parts to let him in, tipping his head and moving closer, lifting a hand up to the back of Dan's neck, holding him there. He can feel the way Dan's hand presses against the base of his spine, the warmth of his broad palm seeping through his shirt. 

There is a vibration on Phil's hip and they part, Dan laughing. 

"Shit," he says, "It's my phone." 

"Anyone important?" 

"Fuck, Phil! The show! We forgot about the show." 

Phil's eyes go wide. He'd been so busy baring his soul that he'd forgotten they were there to do the radio show. 

"We have to get upstairs, I mean we have time but they're… we have to go now. I'm sorry." 

Phil laughs, "That's okay." 

"Will you… after the show. Come back to mine?" 

Phil nods. "Yeah, I'd like that." 

"I'm glad I met you," Dan says, moving toward the door. "You know, finally. It was getting a little ridiculous that we kept nearly-meeting." 

Phil follows him out of the door. "I'm glad too," he says, "but… what if we hadn't?" 

Dan holds his hand out and Phil doesn't hesitate to take it, slipping his fingers in between Dan's as they walk the halls. He does drop it as they enter the studio, but they share a warm fond look as he does and Phil knows Dan is okay with him wanting to keep it just to them. He won't push Phil past the point that he's comfortable with. He doesn't know if it will always be that way, but it's what he needs for now. 

"I wouldn't have let that happen," Dan says as they get ready to go on air, "I'd have met you eventually." 

"Yeah?" Phil says, "We wouldn't just have been ships passing in the night forever?" 

"Definitely not," Dan says, "It would have happened. At some point."

And somehow, Phil believes him.


End file.
